


An Unsolved Mystery: Love

by Tardis_221B



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Daddy Kink, Johnlock - Freeform, Johnlock Fluff, Johnlock Smut, M/M, Multiple times, No really they do, Right?, Sherlock's backstory is revealed throughout, These tags are wild, Top John, Truth or Dare, and in many locations, and they do it well, bottomlock, but everything gets resolved in the end, it's a whole bunch of messy, mwahahaha, soldier kink, the gayness is exhausting, they do the do, they really can't get enough I'm afraid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2018-04-04 17:50:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 30,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4147152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tardis_221B/pseuds/Tardis_221B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John are happy at 221B Baker Street. Sherlock solves case after case and they are perfectly content with their lives. That all changes when John stumbles across a box of unopened letters from Sherlock's parents. His curiosity gets the best of him and  now he will do anything to figure out what secrets Sherlock has hidden from him about his family and his past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Lake

_Sleep._ John longed for an hour or two of it. If he could just-

“John.” Sherlock’s voice flooded through his thoughts and into his brain. He sat up on the sofa groggily and opened his eyes. The afternoon light was flooding through the crack in the closed curtains.

“What is it, Sherlock?”

“Bored, John. What were you thinking about?” Sherlock said looking up from his tea and today’s paper.

“Well I was practically asleep until you decided to wake me for God knows what reason.” Sherlock rolled his eyes and took a sip of tea, looking smug.  
“Lestrade called and asked us if we could meet him in half an hour. Something about a body of a man found in the lake…” Sherlock trailed off obviously deep in thought about it.  
_Great. A new case._

“Okay, I’ll get dressed.” John sighed to himself and walked slowly up the stairs to the bathroom to get cleaned up.  
By the time he came downstairs and was dressed and ready to go, Sherlock was already waiting by the door, tapping his foot impatiently. No surprise to anyone there. Sherlock was probably dying to get outside and solve a case. His big brain was throbbing from lack of excitement, John was sure. It had been at least a week if not more and he was, no doubt, already halfway through solving the mystery without even seeing the evidence.

“Finally John. My god, I thought you were going to be in there forever,” Sherlock said as he opened the door. “I took less than fifteen minutes, Sherlock. Good thing you aren’t living with a woman. You would lose all of your patience.” Sherlock made a sort of huffing sound in John’s direction before stepping outside into the brisk London air. John followed, feeling mildly annoyed, but mostly just happy that Sherlock was up and about. He had been moping around the flat with nothing to do and it was driving John insane, almost as much as it was Sherlock. They needed this case.

~.~.~.~.~

When they got to the crime scene Sherlock hopped out of the cab quickly, leaving John to pay. _Of course_. It always happened that way. He rolled his eyes and tossed the driver a couple of notes before climbing out and following his flatmate. Sherlock went immediately into case-mode as soon as his feet touched the pavement, and John just stood around awkwardly. Lestrade walked up to him in an attempt to make friendly conversation. “Hello John,” he greeted warmly. “Nice to see you, Greg,” John said smiling at him. Greg Lestrade was a nice guy with a warm, friendly personality. He was only intense if he was wrapped up in a lot of work which happened frequently, but John wasn’t around him most of the time.

“How’s Sherlock been?” He asked, looking mildly concerned.

“He’s been a bit restless for a new case lately, why do you ask?” Lestrade sighed.

“He sounded a bit too enthusiastic when I called and mentioned a dead body, although thinking about it now, that does sound like Sherlock.” John laughed.

“I suppose so.”

They stood there a few moments, not knowing what to say. Sherlock walked over and addressed Lestrade.  
“Give me 24 hours and I will get back to you,” Sherlock said, typing something into his phone.

“Alright, sounds reasonable. Thanks for coming over here.”

John smiled nodding in Sherlock’s direction “Believe me, it was his pleasure.” Lestrade smirked and leaned in to whisper in John’s ear, “And I’m sure you would know lots about that, mate.” Then he walked away, cackling before John could process what he meant. His face flushed and he felt his cheeks go hot. He looked down so Sherlock wouldn’t notice. He knew how everyone loved to tease him about his relationship with Sherlock. They had been flatmates for as long as he could remember. In fact, John could barely remember his life before 221B Baker Street and Sherlock. Coming home to experiments in the kitchen, and listening to Sherlock play his violin late at night while John drifted to sleep. John didn’t need any other life than that; he was content. “Come along, John.” Sherlock interrupted his train of thought.  
“Coming!”

~.~.~.~.~

When they got back to the flat, Sherlock immediately sat on the couch and started up his laptop. John decided to take a nap since he was almost asleep before Sherlock had to bloody wake him up. He kicked his shoes off and fell onto the bed with a sigh. He curled up under the covers and allowed himself some time to think. John knew that what Lestrade had said was what had been bothering him.

What John wondered was: why did everyone think that they were a couple? It’s not like they hugged or even touched much around people or anywhere. The most physical contact the two had was the time when John stayed out too late drinking with some of his mates and he couldn’t get up the stairs himself so Sherlock decided to carry him upstairs to John’s room and put him in bed. John could barely remember that night, however many months ago, but somehow he remembered Sherlock tucking him in. He blushed in spite of himself.

What would it be like to date Sherlock… His thoughts started to wander and he stopped himself. They were best friends and flatmates. That was it. As far as John knew Sherlock was not interested in a relationship with anyone, except his work. “John, I think you should know that I consider myself married to my work.” Those were his exact words that night at Angelo’s. And more importantly, John was straight. Wasn’t he? He never really questioned his sexuality before because he had no reason to do so. He had dated women all his life. Was it possible? John groaned as his head started to hurt. He turned over and cleared his head as best as possible. Images of Sherlock drifted in and out of his thoughts. John had no time to do this now; he really needed to sleep. After a while, he finally drifted off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I am so sorry that I took forever to update. This chapter is kind of short so I'll try to update again soon to make up for it. Let me know that you think!


	2. Letters

When John awoke, the flat was silent. He figured Sherlock was busy on his laptop trying to solve the case. He went to the kitchen as silently as possible to make some tea for himself and Sherlock. He hummed quietly and waited for the water to boil. Sherlock sat at the table, his face illuminated by the glow of his laptop. He was completely engrossed and focused until he seemed to notice John’s presence and looked up. John smiled and Sherlock returned it warmly.

"Thanks for the tea."

John was surprised. Sherlock rarely expressed his gratitude unless he was in an exceptional mood. John wasn't complaining, though. Happy Sherlock meant no holes in the wall or just a generally grumpy atmosphere.

"You're welcome."

Sherlock went back to his laptop and John sat at the table across from him. He sipped his tea and his mind wandered back to the thoughts that he was having before he’d fallen asleep. He felt his face get hot, as he remembered one of the more explicit thoughts he had experienced. Sherlock was too engrossed in his laptop to notice his rosy cheeks, and John was grateful for that. He wondered what it was like in Sherlock’s mind palace. It must be a magnificent, terrifying place. The kind of place that Sherlock was naturally drawn to. He finished off his cuppa and stood. Sherlock hadn't touched his and John sighed knowing that it would be cold before Sherlock even remembered it was there.

  
He set his cup in the sink and went to his back to his room. He turned the light on and the bulb flickered a few times before returning to its previous dark state. He sighed and called out,

"Sherlock?"

"Yes, John?" Sherlock said in a monotone voice. John replied, "Where do we keep the spare light bulbs?"

"My closet. I'll get them for you if you want." Sherlock said, still obviously still absorbed in his laptop.

"No that's alright, keep working." John said as he walked over to the other bedroom.

As he opened the closet and reached for the lightbulbs, a plastic container caught his eye. He grabbed the bulbs and set them on the bed. He reached for the bin but stopped. Should he really be snooping? It was Sherlock's stuff after all. Alas, John's curiosity started to drive him insane and it won over against his better judgment. He carefully removed the plastic container and set it on the bed as well. To his surprise, it was filled completely with unopened letters. Envelopes upon envelopes had been thrown into this container and shoved into a closet. He looked at the address and was confused.

"Mr. And Mrs. Holmes." was on the front of almost every envelope with the exception of a few from other people John didn't know. He held his breath and quickly opened one before he could stop himself.

_Dearest Sherlock,_

_We miss you very much and we haven't seen you in a very long time. Too long. You never return our calls or emails. I suppose you're busy, but we really wish you would forgive us and we just wanted to let you know that we love you._

_Sincerely,_

_Your Mum and Dad._

John stared at the letter as if it was from outer space. He kept forgetting that Sherlock even had parents and that he was, well, _human._ How could Sherlock just leave all these letters here and not open them? He obviously didn't want anything to do with his parents. "We really wish you would forgive us." What did they do that was so bad that Sherlock wanted nothing to do with them anymore? John heard the scraping of Sherlock's chair against the ground and John quickly shoved the rest of the letters in the bin and snapped the lid back on. He shoved it into the closet, shut the door, and walked out of the bedroom with the light bulbs in his arms.

"What took you so long?" Sherlock said raising his eyebrow further than John thought was possible. "I couldn't um... find the lightbulbs at first, but I got them now" John stumbled through his lie.

"I see," Sherlock said, obviously skeptical of John's claim. "Well I'm glad you found what you were looking for," Sherlock nodded and walked into his bedroom shutting the door. John let out a sigh and plopped down on the sofa to watch some TV.

 _What a discovery._ John thought to himself. Sherlock had never mentioned his parents now that he thought about it. Maybe he should call them up and invite them to Baker Street. Sherlock could probably use a bit of family. He decided that he would contact the Holmes family and have a reunion whether Sherlock approved of it or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I am currently posting all of the chapters I already have.


	3. Dinner

John was famished. He hadn't eaten in 24 hours and his stomach was making sure he knew it. It was four o'clock and Sherlock was taking a nap on the couch. He was muttering incoherently, and it was amusing, to say the least.

When Sherlock slept, it took away years of pain and worry from his face and left him in a state that people rarely ever saw from him: vulnerable. John figured that he was the only person that Sherlock trusted to see him when he was in that state, and John was proud of that fact. He smiled knowing that Sherlock trusted him.

"Sherlock?" John said gently nudging his shoulder. John hated waking Sherlock up since he rarely got enough sleep, but John needed food and he wanted Sherlock to come try out a new Thai restaurant a few miles away from the flat. Sherlock stirred and opened his eyes sleepily. "Would you like to go get dinner with me?" John asked hopefully.

"Thai?" Sherlock asked with a smirk.

"How did you know?"

"You mentioned it."

"Two weeks ago!"

"Precisely. It was a Tuesday and it was exactly 6:47 p.m."

John just stood there, shocked, while Sherlock's ego inflated a tad more as he looked at him with a smug smile. John just shook his head, "Is that a yes then?"  
"Of course."

~.~.~.~.~

Sherlock wasn't the best at eating a lot. In fact, he barely ate twice a day, and that was only if John forced him to sit down and shoved a plate at him. So it was no surprise to John that Sherlock looked at the menu with distaste and only skimmed through. "Come on Sherlock. I took you to dinner and it's on me, so please just eat a little something?" Sherlock's face softened and he nodded slowly.

"For you," he mumbled.

"I'm sorry what was that?" John said grinning uncontrollably.

"I'll eat something for you since you seem to think it's important," Sherlock said, exasperated. John swelled with pride. Sherlock was eating something for him. That was just about as nice as his flatmate got, and John was overjoyed that he could, at least, convince Sherlock to take care of himself like this. It was highly unlikely that anyone else could.

The food was delivered and Sherlock stared at it as if he couldn't believe he had agreed to eat it. John gave him a look and Sherlock sighed. He took slow bites as if making sure the food endured every bit of torture it could, before being swallowed. He chewed with such anger it was almost funny to watch. "Oh come on Sherlock, what did the food do to you?" John said, handing him a napkin. Sherlock grimaced, "It decided to get set on a plate and eaten. So that's what I'm doing to it."

"It's just some tofu, Sherlock. At least, you could look like you’re having a good time."

" _I am_ having a good time, John. Thank you for bringing me."

"I suppose if you said thank you, it must be true." John laughed.

"Or I'm just an excellent actor."

"Yes, an "excellent" actor with a huge ego and a brain to match."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and went back to picking at his tofu. John could just make out a hint of pink on Sherlock’s cheeks and a dimpled smile.

~.~.~.~.~

The check was delivered and John paid as promised. Sherlock, to John's pleasant surprise, asked for boxes to carry home the leftover food. John figured Sherlock did it just to make him happy, but he was still proud of him.

"Want to go for a walk? It's only 6:30. We can kill time before going back to the flat if you want." Sherlock said with a small smile.

"Actually, I have some stuff to-" John started to say as Sherlock’s smile morphed into a sad pout.

"I'm just joking! I could use the fresh air." John said, enjoying the annoyed look on Sherlock’s face.

They started walking and John felt oddly calmed by Sherlock's presence. Sherlock had this aura about him. One look at him and you could tell he was strong, smart, and confident. John wondered what people thought about himself when they saw him. Probably just a wounded soldier that was lonely and now only slightly less so. It didn't matter because he wasn't lonely anymore. He had a genius for a best friend and he was perfectly happy. _What if Sherlock could be more than a friend?_ His thoughts from before hit him hard and he stopped dead in his tracks.

"John," Sherlock said, stopping with a concerned look on his sculpted face. Wait, sculpted? Where had that come from? It's true Sherlock had beautiful cheekbones, but-- Damn, he had done it again.

"I'm fine, sorry, just probably ate too much." John rubbed his stomach to make his point.

"Let's stop for a bit then, and rest. I don't mind"

They walked over to a park bench and sat together, watching the lights come on in the distance as it started to get dark. Why was John suddenly feeling this way about Sherlock? It's not like Sherlock had these thoughts about John. Well, he didn't exactly know that. John sighed deeply. Was he really developing a crush on his best friend? That couldn't be safe. Sherlock rarely showed affection unless it was to John. Wait... Only to John. Was it possible that Sherlock was hinting at something? No; John was his friend and that was it. They solved crimes together and shared a flat, but that was it. That was all it could ever be.

"It's getting late, want to head back?" Sherlock asked, no doubt worried about how John all of a sudden looked as if he made a life-changing discovery. Which in a way, _he had_. He was actually crushing on Sherlock.


	4. Roses

As hard as it was, John tried hard to act natural the whole time they were walking back to the flat. Sherlock kept pestering him about his sudden change in attitude. John insisted that he was fine, but he figured that Sherlock knew otherwise. He _was_ a genius after all. As soon as they reached 221B, John excused himself to bed and didn’t give Sherlock another glance.

He flopped down on his bed and tried to control his breathing. How bad was this situation? John would say pretty bad. He barely managed to catch up on any sleep. His thoughts were mostly of Sherlock, and John knew that the more he thought about him, the worse it would get. But he just couldn’t help himself.

~.~.~.~.~

John awoke to the sound of the violin. He listened for a few moments to the beautiful sounds that Sherlock could create out of that piece of wood. The bow moved across the strings in drawn-out notes. He put so much passion and emotion into each phrase, that John couldn't help but fix his ears on the magnificent sound and soak it in. Sherlock playing the violin this early meant that he was perplexed and couldn't sleep. John understood that, but he didn't understand what on earth could be bothering Sherlock.

He slowly climbed out of bed and walked to his bathroom for a quick shower and freshening up. When he had finished, the music was still going on. It had gotten faster and the notes were a shorter, more intense staccato. It reminded John of being on a fast-paced case; possibly being in pursuit of a criminal and chasing him through the winding streets of London. John quickly put on a robe and walked out as quietly as he could. He loved watching Sherlock play. It was so incredibly amazing that he could transform everything in his life into music that could make you feel everything he was feeling right along with him. He just stood there mesmerized by Sherlock's music for what seemed like forever. Sherlock ended the piece and John clapped before he could stop himself. He sat down embarrassed. "Oh, John. you're up." Sherlock said as he set his violin back in the case and loosened his bow.

"I am indeed."

"Then tell me, what would you like to do today?"

"Do we have a case?"

"Just the one I'm currently working on about the man at the lake," Sherlock said.

"Would you like to... Do something together perhaps?"

"Actually yes. Would you mind coming along with me to a flower shop? It's for the case. I have a theory of mine that I would like to test."

"Sure, I wouldn't mind," John said trying to keep a poker face. "Wonderful. I'll see you in a few minutes. We'll take a cab," Sherlock said grabbing his coat and putting on his navy blue scarf. John was sure something would go wrong, but if Sherlock had a lead, it was only right that he should tag along.

~.~.~.~.~

20 minutes later, the duo found themselves at the only flower shop in a 30-mile radius of Baker Street. The sign looked like it had gone through several years of hardship, as it was just barely staying up. In a hideous font, the name "Fancy Flowers" was displayed. Sherlock scoffed as he took it all in.

"Dumb name. Old sign. The only reason they are still in business is because they have no competition."

"So why exactly are we here?" John said as he took another look at the small, old shop.

"I believe I know who the killer is," Sherlock said with a straight face and opened the door.

For about an hour, Sherlock inspected each rose in the shop carefully while John was forced to make conversation with the shop owner: a quirky, middle-aged woman named Diana Reid. She was okay to talk to, although _she_ did most of the talking. He had learned her whole life story in just 10 minutes, and it sounded like she was about to tell it all over again. "Sherlock, are you almost done?" John asked impatiently.

"Almost John, just give me a few more minutes."

John sighed and turned back to Diana. "You know, you guys are an adorable couple." She said with an innocent smile. John almost had a panic attack. "Well, we aren't actually... We don't... We're not together." John managed to get out. "You seem disappointed," Diana said laughing. "I would be. He looks like one hell of a bloke. Those cheekbones..." She swooned. John caught his breath.

Sherlock walked over and smiled coldly. "I believe my work here is done. Let's go John." He turned to face Diana. "I'm sure I'll be seeing you again soon." He gave another cold smile and walked out leaving John to wonder what he meant and why they just spent an hour in a flower shop.

~.~.~.~.~

 _Cheekbones_. That was all John could think about on the way back to Baker Street. He had to admit that Sherlock did have pretty adorable cheekbones. And his eyes… John mentally slapped himself. If he thought about Sherlock anymore, he might start to drool and that would definitely arouse some suspicion. He knew now, that he was attracted to Sherlock, but this was getting out of hand. If Sherlock found out he would no doubt want to end the friendship and that would kill John. Sherlock was John’s only best friend. Someone he really trusted about his past.

Speaking of the past… John still needed to get in touch with the Holmes family and figure out why they needed to be forgiven, and why Sherlock wasn’t eager to.

“John… Please. I don’t think you are being honest with me. What’s wrong?” Sherlock said in a deep, almost comforting voice.

“Why do you care anyway?” John spat out before he could stop himself. Sherlock’s facial expression hardened. “I’m your friend and it doesn’t take long for me to deduce that something is wrong. You have been drumming your fingers on the seat for a total of three minutes even though you usually have a completely still hand. You keep looking over at me and then looking away as if you can’t bear to look at me.” John was terrified. He was falling for Sherlock and because of that, he was getting all the wrong ideas about it.

“Sherlock it’s really comp-”

“Why won't you tell me?”

“I-I just can’t… You don’t understand.”

“Then help me,” Sherlock said through gritted teeth. “Sherlock I really am sorry, but it’s none of your concern and I'm sure I'll be fine soon enough.” John lied. “Are you embarrassed by me?” Sherlock’s voice came out as a whisper.

“What?” John asked, genuinely confused. “Do I embarrass you, John Watson!?” Sherlock practically yelled.

The cab stopped at 221B Baker Street and Sherlock angrily got out. He tossed the driver some money and stormed inside the flat as John chased after him.

“Sherlock wait. I’m not embarrassed by you!” John shouted as he went inside and tossed his coat down. Sherlock was lying on the couch with his eyes closed, fingers steepled, and breathing deeply.

“Sherlock, listen…” John started. “No, John. I’m sorry I overreacted. You don’t have to tell me, but I _can_ help.” John thought about that. “I don’t think you can, this time, Sherlock.” “Why would you think I was embarrassed by you?” John asked, sitting down on the chair facing Sherlock.

“I’m a sociopath John. Almost everyone except you thinks that I’m a freak or crazy. I just figured my luck had run out and the person that I care about the most thought so too." Sherlock said with a small smile. John’s heart fluttered at Sherlock’s words and he blushed. “Thank you, Sherlock. That means a lot coming from you. For the record, I don’t think you’re a sociopath. Whoever the doctor was that told you that you are a sociopath, is an idiot. After an hour with you, I could see that you care. You just care about certain people is all: Lestrade, your brother, and me.” John hoped that he had made the right choice by saying those words. Sherlock smiled a warm smile. “I appreciate it, John,” and closed his eyes again.

~.~.~.~.~

John needed to figure out what to do. Should he risk it all and tell Sherlock, just to possibly get rejected and lose the special friendship that they had? That was most likely what would happen and John just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“John, I am almost certain about the killer. Would you like to come with me to present the evidence to Lestrade?" Sherlock's voice shook him back into reality. "Yes, I'll come; I want to know what happened," John said smiling at Sherlock.

~.~.~.~.~

"It was Diana Reid," Sherlock said as soon as Lestrade walked over. "Who is that and how do you know?" Lestrade said with a puzzled look on his face. Sherlock took a deep breath.

"The man we found at the lake was wearing gloves and we never thought to check under them, well you didn't. I took a look and saw a cleaned prick on his finger. At first, I didn't know what it was from, but after a quick background check, I found out that his ex-wife Diana Reid owns a flower shop and I knew it was a prick from a rose thorn. It didn't take me long after that to figure out that she coated the thorns with poison and gave the rose to her ex-husband. Sure enough, I found a bottle of arsenic in the back room while John was keeping Diana occupied. Good job by the way. My theory is that she gave him the rose as an “apology” and he didn't want it so she took that opportunity to shove it into his hands, therefore, pricking his finger and getting the poison into his bloodstream. After a few hours, he would have been paralyzed and Diana then was able to throw him into the lake to make it seem like he committed suicide and he drowned." Sherlock finished his long speech and handed Lestrade the evidence.

"Thank you for your hard work. I will call you when she is arrested." Lestrade said, looking pleased. John and Sherlock both nodded and headed back home. "Want to go get some lunch?" Sherlock asked looking down. "Sure, I'll follow you," John answered and walked next to Sherlock. Lunch with his crush, Sherlock. How exciting...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last one for a little bit. I'll get to writing, though, so don't you worry.


	5. Stains

Sherlock’s POV

Sherlock knew something was up with John. He could always tell when John did just something a little differently and knew exactly what each thing meant. Not this time. He has absolutely no idea what was wrong with his flatmate. The more John acted strangely, the more it affected Sherlock. He knew he had feelings for John, and that they were in no way platonic, but he couldn’t control them. He had to push them down, even though all he longed to do was push his lips onto John’s and just lay together for hours. His eyes started to water as he imagined a future that couldn’t happen.

“Sherlock, are you crying?” A voice brought him back to reality.

“What- No don’t be ridiculous” What was he supposed to be doing? He took in his surroundings. Right! Walking to lunch with John. He had just solved a case.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Sherlock?” John said looking up at him with those intense blue eyes. There was the entire world trapped in his eyes. Dark blues with hints of green. It only made sense, because John was Sherlock’s entire world. For once Sherlock was at a loss for words.

“I uh…”

“Nevermind it; I’m starving,” John said grabbing Sherlock’s hand and pulling him along. Sherlock gasped quietly at the touch and followed wordlessly.

~.~.~.~.~

They arrived at a petite, Parisian cafe only a few miles from the flat.  
“Table for two?” the waiter asked politely with a light French accent.

“Yes, please,” John said smiling. Sherlock couldn’t bring his eyes off of him. He knew his defense was slowly crumbling. The facade he put up, to make people think he was a horrible sociopath, so they would steer clear and not get hurt. There were times that he didn’t care. He wanted to be vulnerable for once and just be held in John’s protective arms. They sat across from each other at a small, metal table and said nothing.

It was obvious to both of them that something was definitely “up”. Sherlock was pretty sure that neither of them wanted to confront each other about it, though, so they looked at their menus. The waiter brought some bread, cheese, and grapes to them and set it on the table.

“Are you ready to place your order?”

“Yes, I’ll have a croque-monsieur please,” John said paying little attention.

“And for you sir?” the waiter says addressing Sherlock.

“Uh… Same as him.”

The waiter left after taking their orders and Sherlock was left alone with John again.

“Hey, could you pass the cheese? I’m starving and I don’t think I can wait until the sandwich arrives.”

“Sure,” he says picking up the cheese and reaching over to put it on John’s side. John reaches for it and knocks over Sherlock’s tea in the process.

“God, I'm sorry, Sherlock!” John shouts.

It lands all over Sherlock’s lap and he curses to himself, standing up quickly. The waiter that was behind him crashes into him and the tomato soup that was on the tray splashes all over Sherlock’s face and shirt.

“My goodness sir, I am terribly sorry.” The server apologizes profusely. Sherlock feels the gooey mess dripping down him and closes his eyes.

“We’ll take those sandwiches to go. I need to get him home.” John says obviously trying not to laugh at Sherlock’s pouty face.

~.~.~.~.~

The cab ride back to the flat was the longest 7 minutes Sherlock had ever experienced. He was a complete mess. His pants and boxers were completely soaked through with tea and his coat and shirt were splashed red with the soup. John kept apologizing to him the whole ride back.

“Sherlock I’m so sorry, I’m such a klutz! I didn’t think that there was a teacup there and-” Sherlock stopped him.

“John it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Stop blaming yourself for everything. The cab made a sharp left and Sherlock was pushed into John. He moved himself a bit so that he was only leaning on John the smallest amount. _Don’t make it obvious Sherlock!_ They arrived at the flat and John helped Sherlock out of the cab. He dragged him to the door and pushed him into the flat.

Sherlock started to lay down on the couch, but John grabbed his arm. “Oh no, you don’t. You are not getting messy food on our couch.”

“But I’m exhausted, John!” He pouted, actually feeling tired.

“Come on let’s get these clothes off of you and get you into the shower.” John must have realized how that sounded because he quickly turned red and looked down.  
Sherlock smirked, feeling very smug.

“Is that an order captain?”

John made a choking sound and started laughing to cover it up, but Sherlock saw a hint of lust in his eyes. John carefully removed Sherlock’s coat and draped it over the chair. Sherlock started undoing his belt while John undid the buttons on his shirt. His fingers slipped a few times, due to the tomato soup, but eventually Sherlock was in nothing but his boxers. John stared at Sherlock’s chest and stomach and swallowed.

“You-you’re so pale…” John said looking up at Sherlock.

“Mmhm,” Sherlock hummed in response. John looked absolutely smitten, and Sherlock wanted to shove him up against the wall right now and kiss the life out of him. He fought back every urge and instead licked his lips and started walking to the bathroom.

“Thanks for the help John!” He yelled back and purposefully pulled down his boxers before he got fully into the bathroom. He was positive John could see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He's totally teasing him! Naughty Sherlock!


	6. Time

John’s POV

He was being teased. John knew with every fiber of his being that Sherlock was going to be a dick and not make the first move, and knew he had to try to not let himself. It made him furious (and aroused) every time Sherlock teased him. He would seductively wink at John in public and John was forced to stay calm. It was killing him and the only way that he could get back at him was to be an even bigger tease. John didn’t mind it much, but it _was_ pretty hard to upstage Sherlock.

One day John wore his tightest suit that showed off his muscular shoulders and tight arse. The next day, Sherlock rebutted by flirting with literally everyone that came near him. John wanted so badly, to kiss him in front of all those people, but he wasn’t prepared to give up just yet.

That night, after coming home from another exhausting case, Sherlock suggested that they play a game.

“What game?” John asked raising his eyebrow a bit, having a vague idea of where this could possibly go.

“Truth or dare.” John stared at his flatmate.

“You’re joking, right?”

“I hardly ever joke, John. Sit down and let’s play. I’ll get you some wine.”

“You’re being too nice. What’s the catch?”

“You’ll see.” He laughed then walked back out of the kitchen with two full glasses of wine. John gulped and took the wine carefully, as to not have another accident involving spilling liquids. Although, not that John thought about it, getting Sherlock undressed certainly seemed like something at the top of his “to-do” list. He sipped the wine and relaxed into his chair.

“So shall we begin? I’ll go first.” Sherlock says smiling mischievously.

“Uh.. yeah, okay truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Alright, what’s your sexual orientation?” John blurted out before he could stop himself. _Shit._

“Too easy, John. Gay.” Sherlock said smirking and taking a sip of his wine. John relaxed a bit more.

“Okay, now me.”

“Truth or dare?” Sherlock asked with a smug smile.

“Truth.”

“Have you ever dated a man before?” _Oh, so they were going to play it that way_. John thought back to his very early days as a college student.

“Well, there was this one guy back at college. We never dated, though. We were best friends and I’m pretty sure I had a crush on him. We never saw each other after college. He was the only other person that made me question my sexuality.”

“Only _other_ person?” Sherlock said cocking his head to one side and grinning down at John. He realized what he said and blushed profusely. He took a sip of his wine and looked away quickly to cover it up, but he knew Sherlock had seen. _The bloody bastard._

“Well, it’s your turn.”

“I choose a dare this time. Why not spice things up?” John thought that was probably the worst thing that they could do right now, considering the fact that he wanted to shove Sherlock up against a wall and fuck him into submission. He focused again and realized that he was clenching his fist and staring at the wall while biting his lip. _John this is not the time to get a fucking boner!_

“What? Oh, um, dare okay. I dare you to…” he thought hard.

“Yes, John? I’m waiting.”

“I dare you to take off your shirt,” John said smirking. He was tired of being the weak, sexually confused one. He was going to make sure that Sherlock knew who his master was.

“Is that an order captain?” Sherlock said, obviously trying to get John to falter. He did not.

“ _Damn right it is_. Do it now.” Sherlock looked surprised and actually whimpered a bit. John felt himself harden as Sherlock’s long fingers fumbled with the buttons on his purple shirt. God the things he wanted to do… Sherlock’s shirt was now gone and his beautiful, pale torso was now on display for John to admire.

“Truth or dare, captain?” Sherlock asked grinning.

“Aw fuck it. Dare.” John said throwing up his hands in exasperation.

“Alright then. I dare you to take off your trousers. Not your boxers, though.” He sipped his wine and added “ _yet_ ” with an evil grin. John completely lost it. He stood up and marched over to his flatmate. With a yelp of surprise from Sherlock, John climbed on top of him and slammed his lips into the softness of Sherlock’s. It took Sherlock only a second to process what was happening, and for him to respond and kiss back with the same amount of force and energy.

The wineglass that Sherlock had been holding shattered to the floor and Sherlock took that opportunity to use both of his hands to bring John closer to him. He ran his hands through John’s hair and he let out a soft moan. John could feel Sherlock’s erection through his pants, and he experimented by rubbing his own against it. Immediately, a ripple of pleasure made its way through John’s body and he groaned in time with Sherlock.

Their tongues were in a fight for dominance; both of them tangling and rubbing against each other in time to their grinding. Sherlock gave up and John leaned as close to him as he could.

“I was serious about getting those trousers off” Sherlock mumbled through the kiss. John stood up and hoisted Sherlock up with him.

“Tell me what you want,” John said in the most commanding army voice he could muster. Sherlock actually whimpered and looked up at him with pleading eyes.

“Tell me, now!" He commanded again in a low, husky voice.

“Oh god, I want- I want so many things. Fuck me- God please, John. Just fuck me.” Sherlock cried out.

“As you wish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be intense smut in the next chapter. If you do not wish to read, please skip foward to the chapter after. You will not have missed any of the plot. Thanks, guys!


	7. Pleasure

John walked slowly towards the now pleading Sherlock. He already knew what he wanted to do to that perfect body. He already knew just how he would break Sherlock, then put him back together again _piece by piece_. He was going to unlock the pleasures that Sherlock kept buried away, deep in his vast mind palace.

"Tell me you want this, Sherlock." John said cautiously, "I need to make sure that I'm allowed."

"Listen to me, John. I am going to lose it if you don't fuck me now. Just get on with it. _Please_ , I've wanted you to do this to me since I first met you. Don't make me wait any longer."

With that, John nodded and closed the distance between them with long strides. He then shoved Sherlock up into the wall behind him, while kissing him hungrily. Sherlock gasped and started to unbutton his pants, but John stopped him.

"Let me," he said in a low voice. Sherlock only closed his eyes and nodded, while biting his lip sexily. After John had taken care of Sherlock's pants, Sherlock reached over to do his. He moved hesitantly at first, but as soon as he saw John nod at him, his hesitations turned into quick, decisive movements.

Now they were almost fully naked, with John still in his shirt, and both of them still in their boxers. John undid the buttons I his shirt slowly while kissing Sherlock softly. John was finished removing his shirt, and now they were bare chest to bare chest, feeling each other hungrily and with so much need and passion. John slid his own boxers down and did the same with Sherlock’s. The feeling of their bare skin rubbing together and what they were about to do, made them both achingly hard.

“Tell me what to do. I want to obey your every command. Punish me if I misbehave.” John felt himself get even harder at Sherlock’s words and all he wanted was Sherlock’s gorgeous lips around his cock; sucking him until he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Get down on your knees and suck me,” John commanded. Immediately, Sherlock obeyed and grasped John at the base of his cock with his slender fingers. Again, a jolt of pleasure surged through him, and he instinctively bucked his hips forward. Sherlock lightly brushed his lips over the tip and John felt a gasp escape from his lips before he could stop it. Sherlock put his whole mouth over the head and John threw back his head and moaned.

“Sherlock, oh my god.” He went further down his shaft and John had to bite his tongue to keep from crying out. His whole body felt hot as if there was fire running through his veins and controlling him; making him writhe in pleasure as Sherlock went up and down, applying just the right amount of pressure. He felt himself building up to his climax, and he knew that he needed to stop Sherlock before he came.

"Sherlock wait. I won't- I'm not going to be able to last that much longer." John panted.

"Will you fuck me now, _please_?" Sherlock asked, looking up at John, pleading.

"Have you been a good boy? Do you deserve my cock in your ass?" John said with a smirk.

"Yes _Daddy_ , I want-need you in me" Sherlock whined. John was momentarily stunned at Sherlock's new name for him. He was surprised that Sherlock had a fetish, but that just made John want to find every single one he had and exploit them. Sherlock seemed to get excited when John was the dominant role; the soldier and commander. John didn't mind playing that part at all if it meant he could finally do what he had longed to do since he met Sherlock: bury his cock deep into him and fuck him to submission.

"Do you have lube and a condom?" John asked cupping Sherlock's face. He got up quickly and ran to his bedroom. When he emerged just a few seconds later, he had a tube of it in his hand.

"We're both clean, John. I checked." Sherlock said handing him the lube. John nodded and squeezed some out, coating his fingers in it. He hoisted Sherlock up so that his legs were wrapped around John's waist with his back to the wall to support his weight. John slowly inserted a finger and smiled when he saw Sherlock's reaction to the cool, sticky finger that was opening him up. Sherlock squirmed and moaned as John inserted one more. He saw Sherlock's toes curl and his fists clench as he felt John move them around.

" _Please,"_ he begged, "another one, John."

"That's _Captain Watson_ to you" he whispered in Sherlock's ear, smirking. Sherlock let out a small whimper and nodded.

"Please sir, Captain Watson I need more". Deciding to give Sherlock what he was desperately pleading for, he inserted a third finger. Being an army doctor and knowing his way around a body, he brushed his prostate, teasing him. Sherlock let out a sharp cry and his head fell back, his curls falling on his face. 

"Oh fuck. Oh my god." Sherlock said through gritted teeth.

"Be a good boy, Sherlock. Be a good boy and I'll fuck you very good. Right up against this wall. You want that?"

" _Yes, Daddy_." Sherlock whimpered, falling apart in John's arms. John pressed him even harder into the wall and got more of the lube. He poured a good amount of it on himself and then threw the tube somewhere into the corner. He held Sherlock up and gently brushed the tip of his cock on Sherlock's arsehole. Seeing that Sherlock was barely holding on to consciousness at this point and probably wouldn't last very much longer, he slid in all the way and his cock was completely surrounded by Sherlock's warmth. The look on his face was something that John wanted to see every waking moment of his life. He wanted Sherlock's face of pure pleasure burned into his memory forever. His eyes were rolled back into his head, and he was making the most amazing noises that John had ever heard come out of a human being.

He thrust again, faster this time and shoved his mouth against Sherlock's; enjoying just how soft and full his lips were. John realized that this is what he had always wanted with Sherlock. He wanted to claim Sherlock as his own; be his master. He wanted to memorize every detail about Sherlock.

"I'm close, Sherlock," John said, feeling the sweat dripping down his forehead. Sherlock reached out to John and his fingernails dug into his right shoulder. 

"M-me too" Sherlock stuttered and dug his fingernails deeper. John felt a pool of heat collecting in his groin, and he kept thrusting up into Sherlock. After a few more thrusts, John felt himself go over the edge and everything was momentarily white. He was vaguely aware of Sherlock coming to his climax as well and scraping his nails down John's back as he released with a loud shout. They collapsed on the floor in a heap of naked, sweatiness.

"That was-"

"Magnificent" John finished and kissed Sherlock's forehead tenderly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for not updating sooner... My laptop is completely fried and I was forced to write all of this smut on my phone. Kind of hard to do, I must say.


	8. Eye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god I am so sorry guys. I've had no motivation to write at all and I finally pushed myself to finish this chapter. Also I'm very sorry if this has many errors. I am TIRED. Love you guys so much :)

In his post orgasmic state, John realized a few things about himself: he was definitely bisexual, he had strong feelings for Sherlock, and he was a top. Of course most of these things, John had realized earlier, but only now was he coming to terms with them.

They had moved from the floor, after their mind blowing shag, onto the much softer couch to cuddle. Sherlock's head was in John's lap and John was absentmindedly playing with Sherlock's curls. He was essentially petting Sherlock's head, but he didn't seem to mind, so John continued.

"You know," Sherlock said, shifting a bit so he was closer to John. "I finally understand why people are so obsessed with sex." John stifled a laugh.

"Was I really that good?"

"Oh shut up, John. Of course, you were." John giggled a bit and kissed Sherlock on the forehead.

"Sorry about scratching your back so hard," Sherlock grimaced as he lifted his head to see the bright red marks he had made from John's shoulder to his back, "I guess I just got caught up in all the pleasure". 

John laughed, "Don't be. It felt amazing and now I'm marked as yours."

"Good, no one can take my army doctor away from me." Sherlock giggled and pecked John on the cheek.

"So, what about us? I mean, I assume we aren't just friends and flatmates anymore." John asked cautiously. He didn't want to upset Sherlock.

"Well, I had hoped maybe we could be.." Sherlock trailed off and looked up at John.

"Boyfriends?" John finished for him.

"That's a way of putting it, I suppose."

"Sherlock, I would love to be your boyfriend." His face lit up with a smile. "On one condition, though." Sherlock raised his eyebrow.

"You've got to get the milk."

"Git"

"Love you too," John said then stuck his tongue out at him.

"Real mature, John. I'll get the milk sometimes. Deal?" John positioned himself so that he was on top of Sherlock and had his head resting on Sherlock's chest.

"Deal."

 

~.~.~.~.~

 

"Sherlock?" John called out from the couch. He looked up from his experiment in slight annoyance.

"Yes?"

"We should do something fun. You know as a new couple." John said as he walked over to Sherlock.

"Like what?" He said setting down his pipette.

"Hm, how about ice skating?" John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist and buried his head into his back.

"Bad idea."

"Why? Because you know you're gonna fall?" John smiled as Sherlock turned to face him.

"No, because I have something better in mind," Sherlock said with a smirk. He placed a quick kiss on John's lips, then left to go to his room.

"Wear something comfortable!" He called from his bedroom.

"You aren't going to tell me where we're going are you?"

"Nope."

"Git"

"Love you too."

 

~.~.~.~.~

 

Half an hour later they were standing in front the London Eye. Sherlock brought to tickets out of his coat pocket.

"Have you ever been on it?" Sherlock asked and slipped his other hand into John's. It's amazing just how perfect it felt to hold his hand.

"I haven't, no. I'm sure you've deduced why." John said with a pained smile.

"Heights don't agree with you." John nodded and Sherlock squeezed his hand.

"I don't know why heights of all thi-" Sherlock quieted him.

"You don't have to worry. I'm going to help you get through it. Now that I can hold you and kiss you, things are different." They smiled at each other warmly.

"Our booking is for 4:30. We have at least twenty minutes to kill." They entertained themselves by having John deduce things about the people passing by and then Sherlock correcting him multiple times. They would always be giggling after and burying their faces into each other to avoid laughing so loud.

"How many people are usually in one of the capsules?" John asked looking up at Sherlock. He grinned.

"Usually, there are up to eight, but I've booked us our own. It's complete with champagne and truffles."

"Jesus, Sherlock! That must have cost you a fortune. Why would you spend that much?"

"I wanted our first date to be perfect." He pouted.

"You're unbelievable." John gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"I was hoping there would be some of that in our private capsule." He wiggled his eyebrows at the word private.

"If you're good, just maybe." They laughed again and startled a few pigeons.

"I think it's time for us to get on," Sherlock said and grabbed John's hand.

"Don't we have to get in line?" John asked trying to keep up with Sherlock's long stride.

"Another perk of paying all that money was, we don't have to wait in line," Sherlock stated proudly and handed their tickets to the person working at the front.

"You're bloody incredible."

"So I've been told." John punched him on the arm.

"Don't push your luck." They stepped into their compartment and sat down next to each other. It was quite spacious and there was champagne and truffles as promised in the center. Sherlock poured John a glass and then one for himself.

"To us," John said raising his glass with a smile.

"To us" Sherlock replied with an adorable smile. They clinked glasses and took each other's hand in their own. Their compartment started going up and John squeezed Sherlock's hand a bit tighter.

"There's nothing to worry about, love. I've got you." John's heart melted at Sherlock's words. John leaned into his warmth and breathed in the scent that was purely Sherlock. It was a comforting smell that included tea, cinnamon, honey, and something else that John couldn't quite place. They all made him feel comfortable, though, and they made John feel at home. John always knew he had a home with Sherlock in 221B, but now it felt more real; more permanent.

"The champagne isn't going to drink itself, John," Sherlock said nudging him a bit.

"I do believe you're trying to get me drunk," John said and nuzzled at his neck. He felt Sherlock shiver under him.

"Well, we do have this compartment all to ourselves for another half hour."

"And whatever shall we do to pass the time?" John said whispering in Sherlock's ear.

"I would quite like it if we could kiss now."

"That could be arranged." John made sure to set down his champagne glass so that they wouldn't have another accident like their first kiss. At the thought of their first kiss, John sat down on Sherlock's lap and caressed his face lovingly.

"You're so gorgeous," John said looking deep into Sherlock's captivating eyes. He saw them fill with tears and heard Sherlock choke back a sob.

"What's the matter, love?" John said kissing Sherlock quickly.

"I just- I never thought..." He let a few tears spill.

"You never thought what, Sherlock?" John said sweetly and brushed the tears off with his thumb.

"I never thought I would spend the rest of my life with someone as wonderful as you. I never thought I would ever be that lucky." It was John's turn to try and keep himself from crying.

"Sherlock, believe me when I tell you that I didn't save you; you saved me. I was lost in the suffocating darkness of depression and I didn't care. Hell, I didn't want to get better; I had no reason to. Until you." Sherlock took John's head in his hands and brought him closer into a tender kiss. It was the most delicate that they had ever shared; full of love and content.

"I love you, Sherlock. I really, truly love you." Sherlock looked at John and smiled the most genuine smile John had ever seen.

"Loving you is elementary, my dear Watson."


	9. Teenage Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is really short. I'm super sorry. The next one will be longer I promise.

"The view is fantastic," John said looking out from where they were. It was a clear day and they could see all of London displayed in front of them. It still made John a little uneasy to be so high up, but he could always squeeze Sherlock's hand for support. They were practically glued together; neither of them moving more than a centimeter away from each other. It was all so amazing, and John couldn't believe that Sherlock had arranged all this for him.

"Yes, the view is quite amazing," Sherlock said and stared directly at John's lips.

"Come here, you" John pressed himself against Sherlock and kissed him passionately. He pressed Sherlock up against the glass and let his hands wander. He heard Sherlock let out a small moan and he felt himself get hard.

"Let's not shag this high up okay?" John said and laughed a bit harder than he meant to.

"Only if you promise me that you will shag me very hard back at the flat." Sherlock kissed John again.

"That can definitely be arranged." John bit his lip.

~.~.~.~.~

When they got off of the Eye, John was extremely happy that they were at ground level again, but he was also sad that his first date with Sherlock had come to an end. It was a surreal experience to walk hand in hand through the streets of London with his detective by his side, glancing over at him occasionally and smiling. John felt like a teenager again; all of the new emotions flooding through his body. He was sure that his dopamine levels were extremely high and he felt nothing but happiness as they walked side by side in the afternoon weather.

"Want to get something to eat?" John said squeezing Sherlock's hand gently.

"That is how we bond usually. If it weren't for you spilling tea on me, I never would have taken off my clothes in front of you. Which led to you finally working up your courage and admitting your feelings for me while taking me up against a wall aggressively."

"So Chinese?"

"Take-away would be great, yeah."

.~.~.~.~.

Back at the flat with containers of Chinese food strewn everywhere, John suggested that they watch a bit of telly and then go to bed.

"What's on?" Sherlock rolled his eyes at the suggestion.

"Oh nothing good, we should probably just go to bed," John said with a wink.

"Don't be cheeky; it doesn't suit you. I like it when you're commanding and sexy." Sherlock said with a straight face.

"I kind of figured that. A few nights ago was proof that you've got a few kinks."

"What about you Dr. Watson? Any kinks I should know about?" Sherlock asked in a velvety voice.

"I have a Sherlock Holmes kink. Now come on, I'm tired. The sex can wait; I need sleep."

"So much sleep" Sherlock whined, "I don't know how you manage it."

"I don't know how you manage without it."

"Fine. Your room or mine?"

"Yours. I like the smell; It smells like you." John went up to his room to get changed into his sleep shirt and came back to find a fully naked Sherlock lying on the bed.

"I said no sex tonight; I'm so exhausted. I'd be complete rubbish at it." John said then yawned to emphasize his point.

"It's just the way I sleep, John. Now come here; I want to spoon." John sighed but crawled onto the bed quickly. Sherlock's arm immediately draped over him protectively and he felt his warmth envelope him.

"Goodnight, Sherlock," John said smiling into his pillow.

"Goodnight, John."

.~.~.~.~

When John awoke, he expected to be alone. It was probably the best surprise ever to wake up to Sherlock's arms still wrapped tight around him. He was even snoring a little bit; little puffs in and out. It was incredibly cute and John couldn't help himself. He flipped over and kissed Sherlock awake.

"Mm, hello John," Sherlock said groggily.

"You were snoring adorably."

"I was not snoring. I don't snore."

"You really do."

"Adorably you say?"

"It was really cute." Sherlock pulled John close to him and held him for a few moments.

"John, you are the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, so we're even." He hugged Sherlock back even harder.

"I want tea," Sherlock mumbled.

"God, me too."


	10. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be smut in this chapter!! Hooray! Also it's a bit long to make up for last time :)

"I've got to go out for a bit today. I'll be back before lunch okay?" Sherlock said after they had snogged a bit in bed and then had their morning tea.

"Do you have to?" John pouted.

"Yes, I've got a few errands to run. I'll be back soon, love." John couldn't help but smile as Sherlock pressed a kiss to his forehead. He adored it when Sherlock called him love. He was the only person Sherlock truly cared about that way, and it made him feel good.

"Don't take too long."

"Wouldn't dream of it." With that, Sherlock grabbed his coat and was out the door.

John thought of what he could do today to pass the time when it hit him. In all of the confusion and confessing feelings for each other, John had forgotten all about the letters. With Sherlock gone, it was the perfect time to contact Sherlock's parents and have them come over. It was time for Sherlock to get over whatever this was. He was a grown man bickering with his parents. Then again, John didn't exactly know what they had done to Sherlock to make him that upset. It didn't matter anymore because John was set on repairing the bond between Sherlock and his parents.

He got up from the table and walked into Sherlock's room for the letters. He grabbed a piece of stationery, a pen, and sat down once again at the table. It was a bit old-fashioned, yes, but John didn't know their emails. Unless... He reached for Sherlock's laptop but hesitated. This was getting to be too much; first, he was looking at Sherlock's things and now this? He took a deep breath and told himself repeatedly it was for the greater good.

His doubts were becoming larger and larger by the second. Was it really any of his business? He opened up the laptop and the home screen was displayed. There was no password, which John found a bit odd. He quickly clicked on the address book icon and waited for it to open. He typed Holmes in the search bar and saw 3 contacts pop up: Mycroft Holmes, William Holmes, and Katherine Holmes. John though it was a bit strange that Sherlock had to write this information down at all, but he only had room for "important" things in his mind palace. The email addresses for his family members were not important to him.

He clicked on William Holmes and copied down the address onto a piece of paper. He carefully closed the address book and left the laptop looking as if it hadn't been touched at all. Hopefully, Sherlock wouldn't use his deductive skills to figure out what John was doing. He might try to stop him, and that was not going to help. On his own computer, John put the email address into his mail account and thought of what to say. What he finally came up was pretty good.

 _Dear Mr. & Mrs. Holmes,_  
_My name is John Watson. I am not sure if you are familiar with mine, or your son's blog, so I will just tell you who I am. I am his flatmate and partner. I came across a lot of letters recently in Sherlock's possession, that sparked my interest. I was wondering if you two would like to come over to the flat and talk it out with him. I'm sure he will be okay with it, as long as I'm present. Thank you._  
_Sincerely,_  
_John H. Watson._

He pressed send and released the breath he had been holding for the last minute. It had been done. I guess all there was to do was wait. He closed the app and then his computer. Standing up and stretching, he took a sip of his, now too cold tea, and grabbed the letters. Time to put them back where they belonged.

.~.~.~.~

It was about lunch time when John got a text message from Sherlock.

"I hope you're not missing me too terribly. SH" John sighed at just how egotistical Sherlock could be.

"Oh, did you leave? I didn't notice." Sherlock's response was immediate.

"That hurt. I guess I won't bring you home the present I bought you. SH" John rolled his eyes and typed his response.

"Just get home. I'm bored and I miss your lips."

"Just my lips? SH"

"And your cheekbones."

"Is that all? SH"

"And your hair. And your eyes. And the rest of you."

"How badly do you miss me? SH"

"A lot."

"I'll only come home if you tell me what you're going to do to me when I get there. SH"

"I think you know."

"Humor me, Captain Watson. SH"

"I think I'll start by having you suck me like a good boy. And then I'll fuck you into the mattress while you come screaming my name."

"On my way. SH" John had to laugh at this situation. They had just sexted and now Sherlock was coming home to be fucked. John decided that a change of wardrobe was appropriate. He thought about wearing his army uniform, but it would take too long to get off. Instead, he chose a thin dressing gown and plopped himself down on the bed to wait for Sherlock.  
When he finally heard the door opening a few minutes later, he smirked; thinking about just what he was going to do to Sherlock when he got his hands on him. 

"John?" Sherlock called through the flat.

"In the bedroom. Do hurry." John growled. With every step up the stairs from Sherlock, he felt his anticipation rise. Then he saw him: his perfect consulting detective boyfriend. He was standing in the doorway with a sheepish, shy smile on his face. He had his hands behind his back and appeared to be holding something.

"Good evening, Captain Watson." John got up from the bed and walked over towards Sherlock with long, confident strides.

"What's that behind your back?" John smirked.

"I-I brought you some flowers." He said handing John the bouquet, flustered. They were beautiful; blues and purples combined. John smiled and led Sherlock over to the bed. He put the flowers on the bedside table and pulled Sherlock into a kiss. Sherlock quickly kissed back with equal force and passion. They fell onto the bed and continued their kiss; John was running his hands through Sherlock's curls hungrily and enjoying the soft moans coming from the man underneath him.

"John, my pants are getting a bit too tight for my liking." Sherlock groaned. John immediately unclipped Sherlock's belt and pulled down his trousers. He rid himself of the robe; tossing it somewhere away from the bed. Sherlock finished it off by tugging off his pants.

"Be a good boy and suck me," John commanded. Sherlock quickly went on his knees and did as he was told. He took John's head between his perfect, pink lips and flicked his tongue over the top quickly. John felt the heat pooling in his groin as Sherlock repeated these motions again. His eyes met Sherlock's and he heard a small whimper come from him.

"Do you want to be a good little boy for daddy?" Sherlock nodded eagerly. "Go deeper Sherlock. Deep throat for me, baby." Sherlock moaned at the new instructions and took John's whole cock down his throat.

"God, oh my- Christ that's good. You're such a good boy." John panted, sweat now dripping down his face. His hands were resting on the top of Sherlock's head, running his hands through the dark, silky curls. Sherlock went down once a more, this time flicking his tongue at John's balls and then trailing it the whole way back up until he reached the tip again.

"Okay, enough Sherlock. I don't want to come too soon." John gasped, feeling the heat in his groin intensify.

"What do you want me to do now, Captain Watson?" Sherlock looked up at John.

"Lay down and take your fucking. I am going to fuck you so hard, it will hurt to walk for the next week." John's voice was husky and velvety at the same time. "That's an order!"

Sherlock whimpered and immediately laid himself face down on the mattress. John leaned over to the drawer and grabbed the bottle of lube.

"Be a good boy and spread your legs for me," John commanded. Sherlock moved slowly, and John reached out and slapped Sherlock's arse. He cried out in pleasure and groaned.

"You like that? You like it when I slap your arse and make it red? You like it when I claim you as my own?" He slapped once more; the harsh sound of flesh slapping flesh turned John on almost as much as it did for Sherlock.

"Yes, Daddy," He moaned and writhed in pleasure, "Can you leave love bites on me?"

"Since you've been such a good boy" John went to work on Sherlock's neck, sucking and biting until the skin turned red and purple. With every mark, he muttered a _mine_ , which made Sherlock tremble in pleasure. He went down Sherlock's back, licking and claiming him, leaving hickeys wherever he went. Finally, John grabbed Sherlock's legs and spread them apart himself. He squirted the lube on his fingers and traced his fingers lightly over the spots he had marked on his back.  

Please," Sherlock begged him, "I need you _now_."

"Okay, as long as you take your fucking like a good little boy." Sherlock nodded. Satisfied, John slid one finger into him.

" _Fuck_ , oh my god." Sherlock panted and gripped the sheets so hard his knuckles turned chalk white. With his free hand, John gripped Sherlock's waist and inserted another finger. Sherlock squirmed under John's touch and grunted through gritted teeth.

"Are you ready for my cock?" John asked Sherlock slyly.

"Yes please, Daddy. I need it now." Sherlock whined. John slapped his arse again and saw the redness swell up right before his eyes. He positioned himself over Sherlock and slowly pushed himself in. Sherlock's moaning and cursing were beautiful music to John's ears and he pushed in a bit more.

"John!" Sherlock yelled and braced himself into the bed frame.

"I'm going to fuck you into the mattress and make sure that you enjoy every moment of it," John growled and thrust again.

"My cock; please can you help me?" Sherlock pleaded. John saw how red and hard Sherlock was and he groaned, thrusting again. He took hold of Sherlock's length and pulled. He thrust and stroked to the same pace, and it soon became faster and faster. John was jerking off Sherlock with one hand and slapping his, now pink, arse with the other.

John felt himself get close and sped up, even more, pushing Sherlock into the mattress like he'd promised. With one last slap and pull, Sherlock came yelling John's name, squirted all over John's hand, and buried his face in the sheets. A couple thrusts later, John came into Sherlock's arse hole and fell on the bed in a sweaty mess next to Sherlock. He admired the work he had done on Sherlock's back, the bright hickeys gorgeous on his pale, alabaster skin. Neither of them said a word and just laid there breathing heavily and holding hands. They didn't bother to put on clothes, and just curled up together and fell asleep in each other's arms.


	11. Friends

John opened his eyes slowly and saw the rays of sunshine beginning to peek through the curtains of his window. He wasn't really surprised, just disappointed when Sherlock wasn't still curled up next to him. He sat up and rubbed his eyes profusely, yawning wide. He grabbed his rumpled dressing gown from the corner and put it on sluggishly.

"Morning," Sherlock said in a monotonous tone and barely looked up. He was doing something with a Bunsen burner and John decided not to get involved since it involved fire.

"Morning, love." John saw Sherlock smile. John tried to fix his own disheveled hair a bit, but it did nothing so he gave up and sat next to Sherlock. He put his hand on Sherlock's upper thigh and started drawing circles with his fingers. Sherlock let out a little content sigh and continued his experiment.

"Your morning hair is adorable." John giggled.

"It is not." Sherlock fussed and tried to straighten it out. John ran his hands through it and made it messy again.

"John!" He whined.

"It's cute," Sherlock smiled a little and left it alone.

"When are we planning on telling our friends?" John said after a few minutes of pleasant silence.

"What friends? Telling them what?" Sherlock asked looking up from the small pillar of flame.

"Our friends, Sherlock. Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Molly. Whoever else." John said rolling his eyes.

"Tell them what, though?" Sherlock went back to his fire.

"About us. How we're together now." John gave an embarrassed smile.

"They all thought we were together anyway. What's the point?" Sherlock said in a bored tone.

"Come on. We should have a coming out party!" Sherlock laughed.

"You really want to? You're going to invite Mycroft aren't you?" Sherlock groaned.

"Yes. He's your family." John said and squeezed Sherlock's thigh. A soft moan came from Sherlock's ever so slightly parted lips.

"Fine." He finally said and went back to his experiment and pouting.

"Good, I'll call them." John gave one more squeeze and then stood up to go get his phone. The calls went a bit something like this:

Lestrade:  
John: Hey mate, you free tonight?  
Greg: Yeah I am. Want to go to the pub?  
John: Actually, we're having a party at our flat tonight at 7 and we hope to see you there.  
Greg: Alright sounds good, I'll be there.  
John: Great. I'll see you there. Bye.  
Greg: Bye.

Mrs. Hudson:  
John: Hey Mrs. Hudson, it's John.  
Mrs. Hudson: Oh hello! Is everything alright dear? Did Sherlock shoot up my wall again?  
John: No Mrs. Hudson it's alright. We're fine. We were just wondering if you were free tonight and want to come to a party at our flat at around 7.  
Mrs. Hudson: Oh of course! I'll see you there dear. Tell Sherlock I said hello.  
John: I will. Bye.

Molly:  
John: Hey Molly, it's John.  
Molly: Hello John. Did you need something?  
John: Sherlock and I are having a bit of a get-together tonight at 7 and we would love if you could come.  
Molly: Oh! Let me check my schedule. Yep, looks like I'm free. At your flat?  
John: Yep. So you'll be there?  
Molly: Of course. Wouldn't miss it.  
John: Great. I'll see you there.  
Molly: Bye.

Mycroft:  
John: Hello?  
?: Who is this?  
John: Um, it's John. John Watson. Could you just tell Mycroft that I would like to talk to him.  
?: *huff* Okay.  
John: Hello?  
Mycroft: Ah, hello John. What can I do for you?  
John: We are having a get together at the flat tonight at 7 and I'd like it if you could come. You know, if you're not too busy that is.  
Mycroft: I doubt Sherlock wants me to come.  
John: He agreed. Even if it's just for an hour, I really think you should come.  
Mycroft: Oh alright. Will there be cake?  
John: I'm sure that can be arranged.  
Mycroft: Good. I'll be there.

The line clicked and John put the phone down, satisfied.

"Do you know how to bake?" He called into the other room.

"I'm sure it's not too hard." Sherlock called back. Boy were they wrong. Six failed attempts later, John looked at the wrecked kitchen in defeat.

"Should we just buy the cake?" John sighed. Sherlock had flour in his hair and cake batter on his nose.

"No. That would be giving up. We don't give up John." Sherlock looked at the kitchen with new determination.

"It's just cake, Sherlock. If we bought it, it would be much easier."

"No." Sherlock started mixing a new bowl of batter.

"Okay, well you do that. I'm going to take a shower. I have raw egg on my arm and I don't even know how that happened." John walked into the bathroom and pulled off his dressing gown. He started running the water and waited for it to heat up.

"Damn it!" He heard Sherlock shout, followed by the clattering of pans. John winced at the mess Sherlock was making in the kitchen. At least, he was trying.  
He checked the water for its temperature and slowly got into the shower. He let the water run down his back and legs. It was times like this that John thought of Sherlock the most. His dark curls and perfectly sculpted cheekbones, accenting his face. He was definitely going to try taking a shower with Sherlock some time in the near future.  
He turned the faucet off and stepped out onto the bath towel. He grabbed the nearest towel and gave his hair a quick ruffle with it then wrapped it around his waist and exited the bathroom.

"What the hell?" He gasped at the spotless kitchen. "I was in the shower for 10 minutes and you cleaned the kitchen?"

"And a new cake is in the oven." Sherlock smirked. John went on his tip toes and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"You're so great."

"I know." John stuck his tongue out at Sherlock's ever growing ego. Sherlock took the opportunity to put his, now clean hands, on the sides of John's face and kiss him. They spent a full two minutes snogging there in the kitchen.

"Go put some clothes on. That towel is quite distracting." Sherlock said, panting.

"I know." He laughed and walked into his room to find some clothes to put on. He chose his favorite grey jumper and put on the first pair of trousers he could find, then walked back out. Sherlock was taking the perfectly baked cake out of the oven.

"How the hell did that happen?" John raised his eyebrow.

"I'm a natural born chef. It's like chemistry: Combining things with specific measurements. If you don't put the right amount of something, you could blow up the whole flat."

"Well, your "natural born ability" didn't work the first six times."

"Trial and error."

"Yeah, okay." John just rolled his eyes. "So how are we going to decorate the cake?"

"I've got the perfect plan." Sherlock smiled deviously.

"Great. I'm just going to go pick up some Chinese food for all of us while you do that." Sherlock just kept smiling.

~.~.~.~.~

"So glad you guys could make it!" John greeted everyone.

"Yes, well you are probably wondering why you are wasting your Friday evening at our flat," Sherlock said with a fake smile towards his brother.

"Well, the thought did cross my mind." Mycroft glared back.

"Yes well, Sherlock and I have some news," John smiled.

"Allow the cake to explain." Sherlock uncovered the cake on the table and John nearly fainted. It was covered in sentences, and these were sentences that were not exactly supposed to be on a

cake:

_"We're queer."_

_"_ Yes _homo."_

_"Not platonic."_

"I made the cake myself," Sherlock said proudly. The guests just stared at it with a mix of horror and a bit satisfaction. Finally, Mrs. Hudson spoke up. "You boys finally realized your feelings for each other. Long after the rest of us realized it for you." The others nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, it was quite a journey." John took Sherlock's hand and squeezed it.

"Lot's of sex," Sherlock added helpfully. Mycroft had just taken a sip of his diet soda when Sherlock said this and unfortunately, spewed it right at Greg.

"Christ, Sherlock! They don't need to hear about that." John's hand brushed past Sherlock's lower back.

"Do they need to hear about how you just touched my arse?"

"Good god," Mycroft mumbled and handed Greg some paper towels. "Sorry, Greg." He glared at Sherlock. Sherlock looked as smug as ever.

"So this, uh, coming out party is real?" Molly asked in disbelief.

"Why wouldn't it be?" Sherlock asked.

"Oh, no reason." Molly stared at her feet and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Molly. You're very pretty and you will make someone very happy someday, but I'm gay." Sherlock said softly.

"Thanks." She gave a small smile that was obviously fake. Everyone knew how she had a crush on Sherlock, but it didn't seem right for her to not know that he and Sherlock were together now and it was okay for her to give up. John was thinking about how he met Sherlock that day in the lab and how lucky he was to have met him. Then he remembered.

" _Shite!_ I forgot to invite Mike!" John shouted.

"Yes. The joiner of these two lovely men." Greg laughed.

"It's okay, John. We can call him later and tell him." Sherlock put his hand on John's shoulder and John leaned into him.

"Honestly, you two. It was just a matter of time." Mrs. Hudson said and wiped at her eyes. They cut the cake and talked about life in between bites of sickeningly sweet cake and rather bland Chinese food. It was a lovely evening and John was a bit disappointed when it was over. It was nearing 10 when they started heading back to their houses. They all left with a pleasant goodbye and wished Sherlock and John a happy relationship. Then the door was closed and they both exhaled simultaneously.

"I'll clear the dishes." John volunteered. There was a knock on the door and John froze.

"Someone probably left something here. I'll answer it" Sherlock said. John heard the door open and then complete silence.

"Sherlock? You okay?" John called out. Still silence. He moved towards the door and realized why Sherlock had frozen in place. An elderly couple was standing in the doorway.

"Sherlock, my dear. It's been too long."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well shit's about to go down so hang onto your sanity as this emotional roller coaster continues.


	12. Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news everyone! I finally got a new computer!!!! YAY. Writing and updating should be a lot easier now, so I'm excited about that. Enjoy this short-ish, angsty chapter.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sherlock yelled and immediately tensed up when they spoke.

"Don't be like that dear, please. We've come all this way." His woman who was obviously his mother spoke. She had silver hair and almost a perfect match of Sherlock's eyes.

"You didn't answer my question." He said through gritted teeth. "What the hell are you doing here, at _my_ flat?"

"We were invited, Sherlock! Someone here had some sense." Sherlock's father looked past Sherlock and met John's eyes. "Ah yes, this must be John! John Watson was kind enough to email us about you and set up a meeting time. Naturally, we got excited and drove out here to see our boy again as soon as we could." The look on Sherlock's face made John want to turn away and run. He looked angrier than he had ever seen him. John saw Sherlock clench his fist. In almost a whisper Sherlock said, "tell me this isn't true John. Tell me-" he inhaled sharply. "Please tell me that you didn't betray my trust like this." John was at a loss for words. Sherlock closed his eyes and drew in a sharp breath.

"Don't take one step further. I cannot do this right now; not tonight."

"But Sherlo-" his mother tried to say.

"Get away from my flat!" Sherlock screamed at them.

"We'll be back." His mum huffed indignantly and walked back to the car with her husband. The door was shut. Eyes were met shakily. Shallow breathing and heavy hearts filled the room.

"How could you? If you only knew..." His voice cracked. "If you only knew what they did to me." There were tears now.

"Sherlock, I'm so sorry. I didn't know they would show up tonight. I didn't think this would happen." Sherlock sank to his knees and looked up at John.

"What did you think would happen? I assume that you know about them because of the letters right? I knew I should have kept them more hidden. I knew you would get too damn curious for

your own good. Then Dr. John Watson would contact my parents in an attempt to "fix everything." Sherlock said sarcastically.

"I never meant-"

"Damn it, John! You don't know what they did! I can never forgive them. Ever."

"Would it hurt to talk to them?" Sherlock scoffed.

"You still don't see what's wrong with this? You looked at my obviously personal stuff and contacted my parents!"

"No Sherlock. I understand that I invaded your privacy, but I just wanted you to fix whatever was wrong between you and your parents. You're a grown man and a silly feud-"

"They sent me to clinics and had them use drugs and shock therapy on me," Sherlock whispered helplessly.

"What?" John wasn't sure what he meant.

"You want to know why I never wanted to see my parents ever again? As a teenager, they sent me to clinics to "cure" me of my homosexuality. They let those awful doctors shock me and inject me with all sorts of drugs. They stood by and watched as their youngest son at age 15 was tortured brutally. Mycroft had no idea until they had stopped. He was already away in college by the time they started." Sherlock had his head buried between his knees and was sobbing.

"God, Sherlock I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I would never have-"

"Please leave. I need you out of the flat right now."

"Sherlock, I'm sorry. I honestly-"

"Get out now John! I can't have you here right now. I just can't. You betrayed my trust and I just can't." Sherlock looked so desperate and helpless, sitting there on the ground with tears streaming down his face. He looked like the frightened teenager must have, all those years ago. Sitting in a chair in a bright room being poked and prodded and jabbed. John's heart ached when he thought of what Sherlock must have gone through.

"Okay, I'll go. But please Sherlock, know that I'll be ready to come back as soon as you will let me." He grabbed his coat and left 221B as the tears of his own began to fall.

~.~.~.~.~

John didn't know where his destination was or when he would arrive, but he just kept walking. It was too dark to see 20 meters in front of him and the streetlights were his only means of seeing where he was going. How could he do this to Sherlock? He had specifically kept those memories locked away on purpose so that he wouldn’t have to face them. He left every letter from his parents unopened because he didn’t want to face them. He couldn’t. John understood now. He understood all of it too well. What this must be doing to Sherlock… He couldn’t possibly imagine what horrors he went through.

John felt like he might throw up. He had caused all of Sherlock’s misery just because he couldn’t stay away from a challenge. He really thought he could help Sherlock with his family troubles. He sat down on the curb and buried his face in his hands. How was he ever going to fix this?

~.~.~.~.~

Sherlock's POV

The best word to describe what Sherlock was feeling right now? Shock. His whole damn world had been flipped upside down and he had no warning whatsoever as the awful memories flooded through his brain. It was as if actually seeing his parents had broken the dam that he had worked so hard to build after all these years that was keeping those unwanted memories pushed back. In his mind palace, those memories had been placed in a vault. He knew they were there, but until he actually saw them, actually felt them, did he remember.

He was in so much pain; screaming out. He was screaming at his parents, at Mycroft, at anyone who would help him. Mycroft wasn’t there, but Sherlock knew he could get him out of there. He just kept yelling for his big brother. After weeks and weeks of “tests”, the doctor’s released Sherlock to his parents.

“Well?” they asked hopefully.

“It appears that the tests were a failure. He shows no change in sexual preference. I’m very sorry that we were not able to help you.” The doctor handed them Sherlock’s paperwork as the frightened teenage boy shrunk away into the nearest corner.

“Come dear. We must get you home.” His mother said normally.

“How could you?” Sherlock whispered hoarsely.

“Oh come now, Sherlock. We were trying to help you; rid you of that awful-”

“It’s not something you can get rid of! I like people of the same-sex and you need to wrap your brain around the idea that I always will!” He screamed at them.

“But it’s a sin! It’s not natural! Why would you want to keep being this way?”

“I don’t care. I love who I love, and neither me nor any doctor can change that.” Sherlock cried out. Why couldn’t he just get them to understand?

“Let us help you.” His father took a step towards him.

“No. Don’t ever talk to me again. Don’t you dare come looking for me! I’m going to make it on my own, and I don’t need you two. Don’t ask Mycroft where I am, he won’t tell you.” Sherlock stood and started to walk out, but his father grabbed him by his arm.

“You’re not going anywhere, young man.” Sherlock wrestled to get his arm free, but it wouldn’t budge. His father’s grip was like an iron clamp.

“Let me go! Let your abomination of a son go out into the world. I’ll probably just be stoned to death anyway for being such a sin!” He spat at his father. He was so shocked, his grip loosened and Sherlock managed to get his arm free. He ran out of the clinic and didn’t look back once. At the time, he knew those memories would haunt him, and he knew that eventually his parents would find him. He just didn’t know it would be at the hands of the person he loved most. He didn’t know that John could do such an awful thing.


	13. Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry for the late update. Life is crazy again and I might update less, but I will still try to update once a week. I love you all!

John's POV

Guilt didn’t even begin to describe the feeling John had at the moment. He was ashamed of himself for being so clueless as to Sherlock’s situation. Sherlock was absolutely right: John couldn’t help but pry and try to make everything better even if it was beyond his capabilities. Only now, walking in the cold, did he realize how badly he had fucked up.

He knew that Sherlock had every right to be angry with him for what he did, but he didn’t know how long it would last. What if Sherlock never forgave him? He felt a surge of panic run through him. Sherlock was all he had. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks and he crumpled to his knees right there on the sidewalk. Sherlock was the one who had been there for him when John was at his worst. Sherlock wasn’t the only one remembering tough times from the past that night.

He was back in his small flat, alone. It was before he had run into Mike and before Sherlock had come into his life. He stared out the small window and saw only gloomy skies. The whole room seemed to lack any sort of color. What was the point of trying anymore? John couldn’t remember the last time he had felt any form of happiness. He was haunted from visions from the war, awake or asleep. He opened the drawer next to his bed where he kept what few possessions he owned. There was a computer, a pen, a journal, a few coins, a button from a shirt, and a gun. He traced his finger along the outside and sighed deeply. Could he really do it? End his life just like that; one bullet? He picked up the gun and felt the heaviness in his hands. He saw the battle field in front of him and he shut his eyes to block out what he could. John was certain that there was no solution for him. There was nothing left. He raised the gun.

*Ring ring*  
John’s flashback ended abruptly as his phone started ringing. He didn’t bother looking at the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Jo-John? Can you- would you-” someone slurred.

“Hello?”

“I need- need you to pick me up.”

“Harry? Where are you?” He asked his sister.

“I-I’m at this bar somewh-” The call cut off. His sister was always doing this. Drunk calling him and expecting him to get her home safely. The phone rang again and he picked up with a heavy sigh.

“Harry, where are you?” In an obviously intoxicated voice, she told him that she was at a bar a few streets away. John decided to walk there then call a taxi and ask if he could stay at her flat overnight. His feet were aching from all the walking he was doing tonight, but he knew he deserved every bit of pain. He arrived at the bar, and Harry was sitting outside on the front steps.

“John!” She laughed happily.

“Harry… I thought you said you were trying to stay away from alcohol for a while.” John put his hands on her shoulders.

“It was just a little bit. I’m fine John. R-really.” She hiccupped.

“I’ll call a cab; you wait here. Oh, and I was wondering if I could stay at your place tonight. Just so I don’t have to sleep on the streets.” Harry looked at him, confused.

“What happened?”

“It was-” He almost said nothing. But it was definitely not nothing.

“What?”

“I don’t want to talk about it right now.” John looked down nervously.

“Having a row with one of your girlfriends?” Harry pushed.

“Sherlock actually; It’s all my fault.”

“You guys bicker like a married couple.” Harry laughed.

“Not yet.” He muttered under his breath.

“What?”

“We’re together. As a couple.” John said as normally as he could. Harry practically exploded. “You’re what!? I’m only now just finding out about this?”

“I meant to tell you earlier I honestly did.”

“Jesus, John. You finally made your move?”

“Yeah.” John smiled to himself. “I did; now I better not fuck this up.”


	14. Miss Missing you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really need to try to update more often. So sorry.

Sherlock's POV

It had been 24 hours without John, and Sherlock felt like he was slowly spiraling into a dark, bottomless pit. His anger towards John was subsiding, and now he just missed him terribly. John hadn’t known what his parents had done to him. He really believed he could help. John always tried to help people no matter what the cost was. Sherlock was still irritated that John had gone through Sherlock’s stuff without his permission, but people make mistakes.

Sherlock suddenly felt a pang of terror as the realization hit him: he might have lost John for good. He tried to steady his breathing, but he felt his throat closing up and his vision get blurry. He recognized what was going on all too well. He had gone through many panic attacks as a teenager, coming to terms with himself. None were this bad.  
He sat in his favorite chair and tried desperately to calm himself down. How long had he been without John? It couldn’t only be a day, could it? He took a deep breath and grabbed his phone from the table. He was barely able to send this simple text, due to the blurriness.

“John? SH”

He felt the first tears fall and for the first time in a long time, he let them.

John's POV

After explaining the story multiple times to Harry on the cab drive to her flat, she finally looked like she understood it.

“You really did fuck up.” she said grimacing.

“Thank you for stating the obvious, dear sister.”

“Sorry. Anyway here’s what I think. On one hand it wasn’t really your fault because you didn’t know what Sherlock’s parents had done to him. But on the other hand, you did snoop in his private things.” John looked down in shame.

“I know. It was a mistake to do that.”

“Then tell him that! Apologize again!"

“He doesn’t want to talk to me. He was so angry, you don’t understand.”

“Okay the give him some time. Let him reach out to you. You can stay at my place until then. Only if you cook, though.”

“Deal. Oh and Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.” She smiled at him.

“You’re welcome.”

~.~.~.~.~

The whole next day was filled with wallowing in self-pity, roaming around Harry’s flat in search of something to do, not finding anything to do, sitting down on the couch, and wallowing in self-pity some more. By the time the sun started setting, John realized just how boring a day without Sherlock was. He remembered how incredibly boring his days were, post-army and pre-Sherlock.

“John, are you going to cook like you promised?”

“I just want to sleep.”

“John! Lying around isn’t going to help.”

“It won’t hurt.” He said and rolled over.

“I will drag you off the couch if you don’t get up.”

“Fine.” He sat up and ran his hands through his hair nervously. Everything seemed darker. As if most of the color had been drained from every object. John didn’t like it one bit.

“I know you miss him, John.” Harry sat down next to him and put her arm around him comfortingly like their mom used to. Unlike Sherlock’s parents, John’s were not alive anymore. They had passed away in a car accident when John was 11. To this day, he swore that if he ever found the drunk driver responsible for their death, they would wish they were dead. 

“I do miss him,” John confessed.

~.~.~.~.~

They ate their pasta in silence. John picked at it and ate a few bites, but it just tasted like sand. Everything tasted bland and disgusting.

“I’m going to go to sleep now,” John said, putting his fork down and standing.

“Okay. There are pillows and some blankets on the couch for you.”

“Thanks again, Harry.” He walked into the other room and sat on the couch. The only things he had were his phone and his coat. He closed his eyes and exhaled loudly. Sherlock was the only thought on his mind. He wished for nothing more than to just curl up together and wrap his arms around him. His phone chimed and he saw that there was a text. That text was from Sherlock.

“John? SH”


	15. When it Rains, it Pours

John couldn't believe what he was reading. He stared at the text over and over again, overanalyzing. Although overanalyzing was Sherlock's special talent, John occasionally couldn't help but think too much about something.

"John? SH"

He felt his fingers fumble over the keys to type a response.

"Sherlock... I'm so sorry." He sent it and closed his phone. He didn't know how long it would take to earn back Sherlock's trust, but he would stop at nothing.

"John, I miss you. I need you here. SH."

He received the text a few seconds later. He took a deep breath; he could do this.

"I miss you too, Sherlock. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. I love you."

"Can I see you in the morning? I need to talk to you in person. SH"

This was a bitter-sweet moment. Sherlock hadn't accepted his apology, but he wanted to see him again. At least, it was something. He responded as sweetly as he could.

"Of course, love. See you tomorrow."

Setting his phone down on the table once more, John closed his eyes and drifted into a light sleep.

~.~.~.~.~

Sherlock's POV

Sherlock hadn't gotten a second of sleep. That used to be normal for him, until John. _Until John..._ It made sense that Sherlock was a mess when John wasn't there by his side. He couldn’t think of any reason why John wouldn’t still love him, but he worried anyway. He had seen Sherlock break down in front of the people who should love him the most. And yet, the people who should have loved him the most, his parents, had allowed those horrendous things to be done to him. Sherlock hadn’t trusted anyone after that. Except for John, of course.  
  


There he was, tossing and turning in his bed, realizing just how empty the flat felt without John. “Where was John right now?” Sherlock wondered. Probably at his sister’s place. Sherlock wondered if maybe, just maybe, things could go right and they would both forgive each other. Sherlock rolled over for the millionth time and looked at the clock on his nightstand.

_2:21 AM_

He groaned and crawled out of bed to make himself a cup of tea. John would still love him even though he pushed him away, right? He understood that Sherlock had needed some time to cope with seeing his parents, right? Sherlock started to sweat profusely, feeling the material of his shirt sticking to his skin, he unbuttoned it and threw it to the ground. How was he going to face John later if he couldn’t even function properly without him? Sherlock sat on the sofa and buried his head in his hands in defeat. He really loved John and losing him… Losing him would kill him.

Two short raps on the door, followed by more desperate knocking, sounded. Sherlock sprang up and threw open the door. John soaked all the way through from the rain, stood there with tears forming in his pale blue eyes.

“Sherlock…” he began his apology. Sherlock pulled him inside, slammed the door, and crashed into him full force, knocking them both onto the ground. They both laid there wrapped in each other, sharing heat. The faded sound of rain pattering outside and their breathing were the only sounds. Sherlock nuzzled into John, not caring how soaked he was, and held onto him for dear life.

“I’m not going anywhere, Sherlock. I love you and I’m so sorry.” John said, gently brushing his hand over Sherlock’s bare back. Sherlock just hugged him tighter and allowed himself to fall asleep in his protective arms.

~.~.~.~.~

John's POV

He carried the sleeping Sherlock up the stairs carefully, making absolutely sure that he wouldn’t wake him up. He set him gently on the bed, curled up behind him, and wrapped his arms around his torso. John exhaled the breath he had been holding in since he knocked on the door to 221B. John had woken up at the sound of thunder, and he couldn’t stand being away from Sherlock any longer. He walked two miles in the pouring rain to get to Sherlock and didn’t regret a second. Now here he was, curled up behind his favorite person, the way it should be. The way it would be, forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I regret to inform you that there will be a short hiatus before chapter 16 will be posted. It will be 2 weeks at most and it is because I will be cleaning up my earlier chapters (feel free to give me suggestions.) Also, I need to get ready for the start of school. Thank you all for the support and I love you! 
> 
> P.S. If any of you were wondering my tumblr URL is mybaeisbaymax so go check it out! Okay bye!


	16. Hold Me Close

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys! Oh, how I have missed you! It has been far too long! I am so sorry that I haven't updated this in over a month. I haven't had any time at all to write and I apologize. Hopefully, I'll get back on track and go back to weekly updates. Until then! Enjoy!

John's POV

  
John could never grow tired of awakening to the sight of a sleeping Sherlock curled up beside him. Never. It was too perfect a sight to miss. Raven curls spilling onto the cream colored pillow and a single streak of light escaping from behind the almost closed curtains, highlighting the bow-shaped curves of his lips. John wanted to trace those lips with his own and memorize every single detail. Not a single thing would be overlooked. If anything made John love Sherlock more than he had previously, it was coming as close as he did to losing him.

John was lucky and he knew, god he knew, how lucky he was to have a life where he had accomplished so much. A soldier and now the boyfriend of the best, and only, consulting detective in the world. Lucky indeed. A vision of a future was starting to materialize in John’s imagination. A future that included growing old with Sherlock and never leaving each other’s sides. It was as if John had known Sherlock his whole life. Almost nothing was as significant as meeting and falling in love with Sherlock. Nothing could even compare. Sherlock was the most important thing in John’s life.

"They had to make mistakes so that they could learn from them and the relationship would benefit." That's what John told himself over and over again before Sherlock woke up. When he finally rolled over and fixed his fascinating eyes on him, John felt uneasy.

"I love you." Was all Sherlock said before wrapping his arms around John and burying his face in the fabric of John's clothes.

“I love you too, Sherlock. And I’m so-” Sherlock put a finger to John’s lips.

“If you say you’re sorry one more time, I swear to god.” John blushed and hid his face in his hands.

“What do we do now?” John asked, taking Sherlock’s hand and massaging a tense spot. Sherlock let out a content sigh.

“I suppose I have to confront my parents.” Sherlock looked anxious. John placed a kiss on Sherlock’s cheek and squeezed his hand.

“You don’t have to, but if you do, I’ll be right next to you the whole time.” Sherlock looked up lovingly and John and they cuddled some more in each other’s arms, the drama slowly being forgotten and forgiven.

~.~.~.~.~

At about 10 o’clock, Sherlock got a call from Mycroft. John couldn’t hear much over the loud shouts, but he did manage to understand that Sherlock and Mycroft’s parents had tried to confront Mycroft too. They knew that he had a position in the British government and tried to find him. Luckily security had stopped them, but Mycroft was still miffed. Sherlock hung up and walked back over to John. He looked like her was in desperate need of a hug, so John wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s torso and mumbled reassuring things to Sherlock.

“Why do things have to be so complicated?” Sherlock mumbled with a hint of defeat in his voice. John put his hands on Sherlock’s shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes.  
“I don’t have a definite answer for you, but I will do whatever it takes to help you get through this, no matter what. I’m not going anywhere, Sherlock.”

~.~.~.~.~

John knew that he had to help Sherlock in whatever way he could, but he wasn’t sure how to. There was no easy way to deal with Sherlock’s parents. They weren’t going to give up without seeing and talking to Sherlock so that needed to happen. John just had to make sure that Sherlock was comfortable and that the right things were said in their conversation.

The next step was figuring out the best place for them to meet each other and the best time. They also needed a safe word, as weird as that sounds, just in case Sherlock couldn’t stand it anymore and needed to be bailed out of there as quickly as possible.

“What do you think would be the best way to meet your parents?” John asked Sherlock after taking his hand and massaging an area by moving his thumb in small circles. Sherlock took a deep breath.

“I obviously don’t want to talk to them, but since it appears that it is necessary, I would prefer to meet them here. I want them to be fully aware that this is my flat and they are not to do anything that would displease me.” John nodded and kept massaging Sherlock’s hand.

“I’ll be right there the whole time, love. You don’t need to be nervous. If they say just one thing to upset you, I’ll throw them out.” That got a small smile from Sherlock.

“Thank you, John. I-I love you.” Sherlock stumbled over the words.

“I love you too. I honestly couldn’t ask for anyone else in my life. You’re the only one I need to make me happy.” They sat together in silence for a while, listening to each other’s breathing and hearts beating. Sometimes the quiet was what reminded John most of the war. Most people would think that it would be loud, chaotic situations, but it was the opposite. The moments that haunted John the most from the war were the quiet moments right before a bomb went off or a shot was fired. The moments when he had no idea what was coming next. After the war, John was plagued with suicidal thoughts and post-traumatic stress disorder. The silence in his life was killing him slowly. Sometimes for John, the quiet was more violent than the noise.


	17. Mother Dearest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! I'm currently cleaning up and rewriting some parts of the beginning of my fanfic. Go check it out and tell me if you like it! Thanks :)

Sherlock's POV

The safe word “jam” was quickly thought of and agreed upon. It was an hour before Sherlock’s parents were to arrive, and Sherlock was pacing the flat like a madman. He was muttering to himself, running all the possible situations that could happen through his mind.

“Calm down, won’t you, love? Everything is going to be okay; I’ll be with you the entire time.” John said, taking Sherlock’s hands, forcing him to stop pacing.

Despite John's sensible advice, Sherlock couldn't help it. These people had caused so much physical and emotional damage in Sherlock's life. There was no way to ever fully recover. Sherlock knew what seeing them again, talking to them would do to him. He knew he had to prepare himself for all of the awful memories to come flooding back like a tsunami of terror. John was the only reason why he was agreeing to be in their presence. He absolutely believed that John wouldn't let anything bad happen to him.

"I feel so vulnerable", Sherlock whispered and hung his head. John lifted Sherlock's chin up with his fingers and their eyes met.

"Sherlock, I love you. Look at me, love." Sherlock stared into the beautiful blue eyes of the man he loved, and the man who loved him, and he felt safe.

~.~.~.~.~

Three short raps on the door sounded, and Sherlock felt his heart stop. All the blood rushed to his face and he felt his knees go weak. John's strong grip on Sherlock's arm and reassuring nod helped a little as he walked slowly with him to the door.

As the door swung open, Sherlock knew this meeting wasn't going to end well. He wanted to run and hide in his room for the rest of his life and never see those monsters again.

"Sherlock, my boy. We've missed you."

Sherlock couldn't speak. His throat had closed up and his mouth had become dry.

"Mr. and Mrs. Holmes, please have a seat," John said, keeping his hand firmly placed on his back. They entered the flat and took everything in. Sherlock could tell by the looks on their faces that they weren't impressed in the slightest. He could also tell that they were suppressing their rude remarks about how untidy and disorderly everything was. He had experiments that he had yet to finish on the kitchen table, and piles of books stacked virtually anywhere there was space.

Everyone sat down in the living room. Sherlock's parents were on the sofa while the two of them sat in their usual chairs. It felt just like a case with the two of them talking to a client, but the tension in the room was much higher. The silence evidentially became too much for John, who broke it by saying: "So, er... how long has it been since you've seen Sherlock?" It was his mother who answered.

"Oh well, it's been far too long. We deeply regret that little... incident that happened before and we realize how unfortunate it was for our dear boy." Sherlock felt all his muscles tense up.

"Incident? Unfortunate?" he whispered through gritted teeth.

“Oh, well perhaps those aren’t the best words.” his father said quickly, seeing the anger flash in his eyes. Sherlock took a few deep breaths, telling himself to stay calm.

“Sherlock why did you always have to take things the wrong way? You still do apparently.” John’s mouth fell open and he met Sherlock’s ashamed gaze.

“And no offense dear but you would think that your _boyfriend_ would make sure that you eat something. I mean look at you! You’re _too_ skinny, dear.” The venom behind the word “boyfriend” was unmistakable. Sherlock remembered this all too well from his childhood.

“Why’d you do it?” Sherlock asked, his lower lip trembling uncontrollably.

“What’s that, dear? Do what?” his mother stared at him sweetly, as if she was innocent.

“You know perfectly well what I’m talking about! The tests, the abuse, the neglect!” Sherlock’s voice raised to a shout.

“We only did it because we loved you. We wanted it to work so that you wouldn’t have live with that burden, those demons inside of you.”

“To this day, we still wish it had worked.” His father added with an awful edge to his voice. The room became completely silent. You could have heard a pin drop. After almost a full minute, John stood up and walked to the door. He opened it and said “get the hell out of our flat, you monsters. If you ever come here again, let me warn you that I was in the army. I have killed people. I love your son more than you ever have. Get out now.”

“Well, would you listen to that. We’re being kicked out by our own gay son and his lover. How utterly surprising. The shock therapy was a good idea. You should be thanking us for trying, Sherlock.” his mother spat. She stood and pulled her husband up with her.

“Mycroft was always the smarter one. We should have just let you stay gone when you first ran away. Remember that, Sherlock? When you were eight?” Sherlock’s head spun as the memories washed over him, dragging him under and threatening to drown him.

“That’s enough!” John shouted and got right up in Sherlock’s father’s face. “I swear to God, if you’re not out of our flat in 10 seconds I am calling the police.” The left reluctantly, muttering about how much of a disappointment Sherlock was. The door slammed, and the dam broke. Sherlock started to sob, as John sat down next to him. He laid Sherlock’s head on his lap and just let Sherlock cry and break down. After a while, John picked Sherlock up bridal style and started to carry him to Sherlock’s bedroom.

“Can we go to yours?” Sherlock said in between weak sobs, “It smells like you.”

“Of course, love. Anything.” Sherlock felt like an infant in John’s arms, but that didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was that he was loved and John was always going to be there for him, no matter what.

John pulled away the duvet and set Sherlock down gently. He pulled off his shirt and lay down as close to him as possible. Sherlock’s sobbing had turned into heavy breathing and a hot feeling in his face. His eyes had swollen shut and he had a headache, but he knew that John was next to him and he loved him. He knew that everything was going to be okay, so he put the past and those horrible memories behind him and focused on the present. He drifted to sleep with John’s lips on his forehead.


	18. Healing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys. Sorry for not updating in a while. Hopefully, this long chapter will make up for it? Probably not... Please rec this fic to your friends if you think they would like it :)

John’s POV

John knew how vulnerable Sherlock was, and that it would take a while for him to calm down. He had no idea just how incredibly awful Sherlock’s parents had been to him. All those years Sherlock had spent alone, with no one even caring if he was okay; it broke John’s heart. It was up to him now to make sure Sherlock knew that he was loved and that nothing like that would ever happen to him again.

~.~.~.~.~

As the week went by, Sherlock started coming out of John’s room more frequently. He still spent most of his time in John’s arms, allowing himself to be vulnerable and held closely, but he came downstairs more often to eat or drink something. John was sure that Sherlock was going to need at least a month to recover from this situation completely, so he thought about what to do to cheer Sherlock up in the meantime. 

He thought about what Sherlock liked doing most in all the world. Well, aside from chasing murderers around London, that is. He loved to dance. That was one of the many things that John adored about Sherlock. He was an amazing dancer, but he never wanted to show people for fear of being judged.

John knew how much it would mean to Sherlock if he could spend time doing one of the things that he considered to be his guilty pleasures. He went online to find some instructors who could come to the flat and give private lessons. One website he found was for a Mr. Walter Valerian.  He was halfway through reading the website’s introduction when the doorbell rang. He got up and opened the door. Greg Lestrade stood there looking a bit sheepish.

“Hey, John. I was just swinging by to see if Sherlock is okay. We haven’t heard from him in a while.” 

“Greg! Come in, I just boiled enough for another cuppa.”

“Oh, that’d be lovely thanks,” Greg smiled and shuffled in. John started pouring the cup as he spoke.

“Sherlock’s been having a really hard time. He’s been getting better, but I honestly don’t know if he’ll ever be the same. I sure hope he will, though.”

“Me too, mate. Me too.” Greg sat down at the table and glanced at John’s computer screen. 

“Woah. You know my uncle?” Greg said looking closer at it

“You’re related to that dance instructor guy?” John asked in disbelief, setting the tea down next to Greg. 

“Yeah, he’s one of the best private dance instructors in London. I could probably get you a discount if you decide to take lessons from him. Are they for Sherlock?”

“Shh keep your voice down, mate. It’s supposed to be a surprise!” John whispered, remembering that Sherlock wasn’t that far away.

“I’ll take that as a yes then,” Greg laughed, “Just let me know if you want to schedule a lesson. I gotta run, but thank you for the tea!”

“No, thank  _ you.  _ I owe you one.” John thanked him and handed him his coat.

“No problem, just text me to let me know.” The door closed and John sat back down. He finished reading the introduction and closed his laptop after he had read through all of the details. He grabbed the tea that he had made for Sherlock before Greg had stopped by and took it upstairs. Sherlock was lying on his side with his eyes closed and had a blanket wrapped around him tightly. John set the tea on the nightstand closest to Sherlock and climbed into his bed to curl up next to him.

“Hello, love. Feeling any better?” John purred and took Sherlock’s hand. Sherlock nodded without opening his eyes and scooted closer to John. 

“I love you.” John felt the need to say it. Sherlock moved even closer so that his head was resting on John’s chest, his curls cascading perfectly around his face.

“I say it a lot, but still not enough. I love you so much, Sherlock. I want to spend the rest of my life with you because you are the most amazing person I have ever met. Every day with you is a blessing and I can’t imagine my life without you. I don’t ever want to leave your side no matter what happens. I am here, always. I love you so much.” John finished and kissed Sherlock gently on the forehead. 

“I love you too, John. More than you will ever know.” Sherlock whispered and squeezed John’s hand. That was all that mattered at that moment. Sherlock was the only person who mattered. Out of everyone in the world, John got to have Sherlock. He closed his eyes and exhaled thinking about how incredibly lucky he was. 

~.~.~.~.~

They spent most of the rest of the day cuddling, drinking tea, watching old reruns of Doctor Who, having a full-on snog session in the shower, and finding ridiculous love poems online to read to each other while trying to keep a straight face the whole time. John lost after Sherlock tried comparing John’s lips to those of a “juicy bumblebee” and John nearly blacked out from laughing so hard.

“What does that even mean?” John asked still wheezing from the poem.

“I don’t know, John. It’s not like I wrote the damn thing.” Sherlock giggled and closed the laptop.

“Why don’t we go do something fun?.” John said and stood up quickly.

“What’s your idea of fun?” Sherlock stood up and followed John out to the living room.

“I was thinking maybe we could go grab some lunch or something. We should get you out of the house; it’s been too long since you’ve gotten some fresh air.” 

“I am perfectly fine indoors” Sherlock pouted.

“Come on, Sherlock. Go put some clothes on.”

“Can’t we just stay home and  _ cuddle”  _ Sherlock smirked. John knew exactly what he meant by cuddle.

“I would love to, believe me. But, I need to get you out of the house first.”

“Fine,” Sherlock sighed in exasperation, “You win. I’ll go change”. 

“Thank you, love.” Sherlock went into his room and John pulled out his phone to text Lestrade.

_ Hey, mate. I would love to have Walter Valerian  _ _ as Sherlock’s instructor. Think you could put in a good word for me? Thanks. _

He responded a moment later:

_ Of course. I contacted him the second I left your flat actually. He can actually start lessons today. Does 5:30 to 6:30 work for you guys?  _

John smiled and typed back:

_ Wow! That sounds perfect. Thank you so much for doing this, Sherlock is going to be so happy. _

Sherlock emerged from his bedroom wearing his tight purple shirt and even tighter pants. John swallowed and clenched his fist.

“You look very…” John trailed off.

“Very?” Sherlock asked grinning.

“Very sexy” John smiled and kissed him.

“Mmm thank you” Sherlock smiled against John’s lips and slipped his hand under John’s jumper to put his hand on his back and bring them even closer. 

“Sherlock, if we don’t leave now I don’t think we ever will” John momentarily broke the kiss and smiled. Sherlock rolled his eyes and kissed him one last time before grabbing his coat and heading for the door. 

“You’re no fun” Sherlock whined while they were walking together to Angelo’s.

“I’m plenty of fun.” John elbowed Sherlock in the ribs.

“Maybe in the bedroom when you get all commanding. That’s fun.” John felt his face get hot at Sherlock’s words. 

“Noted” John smirked.

“You know, we should do this more often,” Sherlock said with a cute smile.

“Walk to places together?” John asked and took Sherlock’s hand.

“Yeah, it’s nice just spending time with you and talking like this.”

“I agree. Just two boyfriends walking to lunch without a care in the world.” John giggled.

“You’re adorable” Sherlock squeezed John’s hand.

“You’re even more adorable. Come on, let’s go in and get a table.”

“I am actually quite hungry for once,” Sherlock said, sitting down at the place where they had first had dinner together. The first night of John’s life that had purpose and meaning after coming back from the war. 

“That’s good to hear,” John smiled remembering the conversation that they had sitting in this very spot. Angelo assuming that they were a couple and John denying it again and again because he didn’t want Sherlock to know that even then, he was starting to develop feelings for the brilliant consulting detective. 

“Oh, by the way, I have a surprise for you when we get home. I really hope you like it.” 

“What is it?” Sherlock asked raising an eyebrow.

“Well, telling you would kinda defeat the whole purpose of it being a  _ surprise.”  _ John laughed. Sherlock was about to say something when a woman that John had never seen before came to their table and asked them what they would like to eat. 

“Who are you? Where’s Angelo?” Sherlock narrowed his eyes.

“Angelo doesn’t work here anymore,” the woman continued smiling. “He was  _ terminated _ a couple weeks ago. I can come back if you’re not ready to order yet.” 

“But-,” John stammered, “The restaurant was named after him. He can’t just be gone.” 

“Oh, don’t worry,” she laughed, “We’re in the process of changing the name.” At this, Sherlock glanced at her suspiciously. John could tell that his mind was fast at work, the gears spinning. When he opened his mouth, John expected him to start a long speech about how she was the cause of all of this and he could tell because of the shade of her lipstick or something crazy like that, but instead, he just sighed frustratedly and glanced at the menu. 

“I’ll take the gnocchi with pesto. How about you, John?”

“Uh- just the parmesan and eggplant pasta for me,” John smiled at their waitress, still surprised that Sherlock didn’t say anything out of the ordinary to her. As soon as John was sure that she was completely out of earshot, he leaned over and whispered: “What the  _ hell _ was that about, huh? I mean Angelo couldn’t just get fired! He owns the place!”

“I know, John. Something’s not right.” He looked over his shoulder to make sure that no one was listening.

“Do you have any idea what’s happening yet?” John asked, getting a little worried. He saw the look on Sherlock’s face when the waitress mentioned Angelo being “terminated”. Maybe he wasn’t a close friend to Sherlock, but John knew that he still cared about him.  

“Not yet, but I’ll get to the bottom of this, don’t worry.” 

Their food was delivered and they ate in silence. It was delicious, but John couldn’t get his mind off of the Angelo situation.  _ What if something bad happened to him? I’m sure they would have heard something on the news… _

“John, stop worrying. Worrying won’t help him.” Sherlock reached out for John’s hand and took it reassuringly. 

“I know. I just hope nothing bad happened to him.”

“There’s a very small chance that something bad happened to him. The probability is extremely low.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right. Let’s just get home so that you can see your surprise.” Sherlock’s face lit up.

“Yes, let’s.” They paid for the meal and walked back to the flat together without saying a single word to each other. John checked his watch.  _ 4:45. Almost time for Sherlock’s lesson. _

“We should get inside,” John smiled.

“I want to know what my surprise is!” Sherlock stuck his lower lip out in a pout.

“Just wear some comfortable clothes. Clothes that would be easy to move around in and do physical stuff in. You know, like clothes you wouldn’t mind  _ dancing in.”  _ John smirked. Sherlock’s mouth fell open. “You’re not serious are you? You can’t be.” His face lit up excitedly.

“Yes, I got you dance lessons with a private instructor. I know how much you love to-” Sherlock silenced John with a kiss. He put wrapped his arms around him.

“God, you’re so amazing. I love you so much.” Sherlock was practically jumping for joy.

“I love you too, Sherlock. I’m glad you’re excited,” John grinned at how happy his boyfriend was, “Now come on; let’s go inside and get ready to meet your new instructor.”

“Okay!” Sherlock practically ran inside to get changed. Hopefully, he would like Mr. Valerian . I guess they were about to find out. 


	19. Fancy Footwork

The second John saw how tight Sherlock’s pants were, he knew he was in trouble. They hugged his lean frame and displayed every perfect muscle in Sherlock’s legs.

“How do I look?” Sherlock came out of his room and stood in front of John shyly.

“Gorgeous,” John smiled.

“It’s been so long since I’ve worn them, I wasn’t sure they’d fit.” He wrung his hands nervously, blushing slightly.

“Well, I’d say they fit quite nicely.” John laughed. He bit his lip and kept his gaze transfixed on Sherlock. He was completely unable to look away.

“I can’t believe you got me a lesson,” Sherlock said, still amazed, “I mean, I can’t believe you even remembered that I like to dance”.

“Of course, I remembered, Love. It’s one of my favorite things about you.” John smiled lovingly at the perfect man in front of him whom he was lucky enough to be in love with. Most of the people who knew Sherlock would never get to see this side of him the way John did. The gentler, more human side. The man who was a fantastic violinist, dancer, a passionate chemist, and most importantly: an incredible boyfriend. While most people saw Sherlock as a cold-blooded machine and a sociopath, John knew that he was just misunderstood by people who didn’t take the time to really get to know him. That may be partly because Sherlock wouldn’t let anyone see that side of him like he let John.  
John heard knocking at the door and immediately he could feel Sherlock’s excitement rise.

“I’ll go get it, Sherlock.” John placed a quick kiss on Sherlock’s cheek and went to the door.

When he opened it, he was greeted by a friendly looking, older Romanian man.

“Mr. Valerian, I presume?” John stuck his hand out and he shook it immediately with a warm smile.

“Please, call me Walter. Are you Dr. Watson or Mr. Holmes? Gregory is never specific enough.” He laughed.

“I’m Dr. Watson, but please call me John. My er- partner, Sherlock Holmes is the one who will be receiving lessons. He’s just this way, please come in.”

“You have a lovely flat, John,” Walter smiled, looking around.

“Oh, thank you. That’s very kind. It’s just this way,” John led him to Sherlock’s room, “Sherlock decided to push his bed to the side to make more room for you two.”

“That’ll be perfect.” Valerian stepped into the dimly lit bedroom. It wasn’t large, but it had just enough room to be of use to them. Sherlock was stretching his long limbs, preparing his body for the strenuous activity he was about to do. As soon as Sherlock noticed Valerian’s presence, he stopped stretching and walked over to greet his new dance instructor.

“It’s very good to meet you, Mr. Valerian, sir.” Sherlock’s small, timid smile made it obvious to John that he must have been feeling a bit shy at this particular moment.

“Oh, Sherlock Holmes,” Valerian laughed, “Please, call me Walter. I think that I can safely judge that you have had previous dance experience?” he asked, smiling.

“How did you know?” Sherlock responded, looking surprised.

“I may not be a consulting detective like you, but I know a dancer’s stretch.” his eyes twinkled as a playful smile lit up his face.

“Ah, so you’ve heard of my work?” Sherlock raised his eyebrow.

“Who hasn’t?” Valerian laughed. Sherlock smiled a bit at that. John gave Sherlock a reassuring smile and then seated himself in the corner with a chair to watch the lesson.

“How about we start with the basics? Show me what you remember.” Sherlock nodded and positioned himself. Although John knew how Sherlock’s body worked while they were being intimate, dancing showed off Sherlock’s physique in a much more beautiful and pure way. His body moved in a balance of perfect, precise movements and long, passionate ones. John was in awe of how flawless Sherlock’s meticulous motions were. He felt his breath hitch in his throat as Sherlock did a jeté and landed with barely a sound. From there he moved gracefully into a piroutté. John would never cease to be amazed by Sherlock dancing. One who didn’t know Sherlock might never assume that he was musically gifted, but John knew.

John felt his pants getting uncomfortably tight as he kept watching Sherlock move. He shifted in his seat to cover it up, but he was sure that the combination of his face and Sherlock’s ability to deduce practically anything gave away the fact that he was hiding a boner. Sherlock smirked and turned so that his backside was facing John. _Oh, the bloody bastard. He was going to make him pay later._ Sherlock stuck his arse out way farther than necessary while he did another turn and winked at him in a completely flirtatious way. John shifted his weight again as it became almost painful how hard he was.

“I’ll be right back. Have to use the loo.” John excused himself while Sherlock flashed him a knowing smile.

He closed the door and immediately took his trousers and pants off in a hurry. He almost couldn’t get them off fast enough. A few strokes and picturing Sherlock’s arse in those _tight_ pants was enough to push him over the edge and he came with a groan.  
He cleaned himself off and returned to the bedroom. Sherlock and Valerian were talking and motioned for him to come over.

“He was wonderful” Valerian smiled and patted Sherlock on the back lightly.

“I bet” John couldn’t help but smile.

“I hope he will continue to have lessons with me, I would love to have him as one of my students.”

“Thank you so much for coming, Walter.” Sherlock beamed at him with a clear adoration in his eyes.

“Yes, thank you very much,” John shook his hand again, “It was wonderful to meet you.” They showed him out and made sure he knew where he was going. As soon as the door closed, Sherlock stood in front of John smirking. He felt his face get hot.

“So, do you like him?” John asked, trying not to give into the temptation of grabbing Sherlock, ripping his clothes off, and fucking him right there. Sherlock just kept smirking, his lips turned up ever so slightly.

“Okay, yes I got a boner, and yes I went to go take care of it during your lesson.” John sighed, slightly embarrassed. Sherlock walked up to him and bent down a little to whisper in his ear. “I know.”

“Of course, you know.”

“So what are you still doing standing there?” Sherlock turned and started walking towards the sofa. John followed and grabbed his arm before he made it there.

“I think,” John said, tracing Sherlock's jawline with his lips and leaving a trail of kisses down his neck , “you need to be taught a lesson.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating in forever. Writer's block is a bitch... Also, sorry for it being so short. Again, writer's block .-.


	20. Barely Breathing

The two of them lay sprawled out on John's bed, the sheets wrapped around them to trap the warmth in. They were panting hard and trying to grasp at reality and leave the fantasy world they had just been in behind. This had been the longest shag, by far. Instead of teaching Sherlock a lesson like John was going to do initially, they took their time. It was slow but extremely passionate. John made sure all of Sherlock's senses were heightened and paid attention to every detail. John was still dominant and was in control, but it was a bit more gentle and prolonged. They were beginning to completely understand each other's desires and be able to match the intensity and please each other accordingly. With a few more times, they would have each other memorized. John felt Sherlock wrap his leg over his side and exhaled contentedly. He loved it when they spooned naked. It was one of the most relaxing things John had ever experienced. Sherlock pressed his lips against John's temple and left a soft kiss.

"You're my everything" Sherlock mumbled and hugged John a little tighter.

"You're my everything, too," John replied without hesitation.

~.~.~.~.~

John needed lots of food after sex. It was something his past girlfriends had always gotten annoyed about. As soon as they had finished shagging, John would have to call and order takeaway or raid the fridge. Even though Sherlock ate more than he used to, he still didn't eat three meals a day. Yet, it was still their tradition now to order pizza after they shagged and watch crappy romance movies while Sherlock tried to deduce every last detail. John found Sherlock's running commentary absolutely adorable. He would get so into it and yell when his deductions were false, or when it was so obvious that the main character was doing something he felt was extremely stupid. John massaged Sherlock's scalp and played with his curls while they lay together on the sofa. He knew how much it relaxed him and calmed him down.

This night felt like any other night that they spent together. They ate their pizza and laid together on the sofa, just talking about their day. They had gotten bored of the movie so they decided to pause it and just talk instead. John kept trying to tickle Sherlock's side and laughed when his eyes widened and he squirmed.

"John!" he pouted.

"Not my fault you're so ticklish," John smiled lovingly at him. Sherlock got John to stop tickling him by flipping himself over and kissing him roughly. John was about to suggest that they take this to the bedroom for round two, but they were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Do you think if we pretend that we aren't home, they'll leave?" Sherlock asked hopefully.

"Come on, Sherlock it could be a client," John said despite wanting to continue what they had just started a moment before. Sherlock rolled his eyes and grabbed his coat to put on over his disheveled clothes. From the sofa, John could hear little of the conversation, but he heard Angelo's name and perked up. He heard Sherlock slam the door and run back up the stairs. His face was full of alarm and shock.

"Sherlock, what's the matter? What happened?" John asked in the calmest tone he could manage.

“Something’s happened to Angelo. They found him, alive but barely breathing in an alley. They are taking him to Bart’s for urgent care.” Sherlock ran to his room. John got up as well and hastily pulled on some clothes. Sherlock met him at the door, pacing back and forth.

"Finally John. My god, I thought you were going to be in there forever,” Sherlock yelled, going into a panic. John realized that those words sounded oddly familiar. He was suddenly taken back to a few months before when they hadn't been together when they were just flatmates. If John was remembering correctly, they were about to meet Lestrade about the man in the lake; the rose case. Of course! That was the day when he started actually listening to the voices in the back of his head telling him that he was attracted to Sherlock. That day was one of the most important to John, save actually meeting Sherlock for the first time and also becoming a couple. Come to think of it, all of John's most important days had something to do with Sherlock. 

"Love, stop pacing would you?", John put his arms around Sherlock's shoulders, "It's going to be okay. Angelo will be fine, you'll solve the case, and then we can come home and everything will be normal." Sherlock took a deep breath and nodded. 

"Now let's go solve this case. Together." 

~.~.~.~.~.

They quickly hailed a cab and got in. The first stop was Bart's to check on Angelo and see if he knew anything. When they got to the ICU, the lady at the front desk told them that Angelo was doing much better and he was transferred from intensive care to a hospital bed on their main floor.

"Are you allowed to tell us what room? We are good friends." John asked.

"Technically I shouldn't, but I recognize your friend as Sherlock Holmes and Angelo said to bring in Mr. Holmes as soon as possible," she said. Sherlock's eyes widened. "What room number?" 

"221" John thanked her and followed quickly behind Sherlock who was practically running as soon as he heard the number.

They found the room and opened the door slowly. Angelo was almost completely covered in bandages and casts. His eyes were closed, but he heard the door open and lifted one of his arms towards the noise. "Sherlock?" he called out weakly.

“Yeah, Angelo, it’s me.” Sherlock scanned Angelo’s body and cringed.

“Who did this to you?” John growled.

“I wish I knew. One moment I’m standing in the alley smoking a cigarette, and the next, someone is behind me and I wake up here like this. They told me I could be paralyzed.” Angelo sniffles.

“Tell me everything you can remember about the night,” Sherlock said, sitting down next to him on the only available chair in the room.

“All I know,” began Angelo, “Is that the person who grabbed me was relatively short. I mean I’m 170 cm which is short for a guy, I suppose, but this person must have been 152 cm or less.” Sherlock steepled his hands under his chin and closed his eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Angelo. I know you can make it through this, though. You’re going to be okay.” John tried to be comforting.

“Thanks, John.” Angelo gave a small smile. Sherlock's eyes flew open and widened quickly. " _I know who did this_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you see how hard I'm trying to update this fic on time?? *cries* I need sleep. I hope you enjoy. Please leave comments and constructive feedback. Also: here is a bonus. I don't remember writing this, but it was on the google doc that my fic is on so enjoy.
> 
> Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh i need bullet points and coffe but wait i dont drink coffe wha t time is it i wanna sleep bu tcant disappoint the fans wtgf am i listening to omfgggg sherlockn o he just jumepd im listening to the soundtrack and this is bullshite omfggggggg JOHNLOCK FUCKS ME UP VERYTHIME THIS IS SENSORY OVERLOAd rn i can’t wtf is that electric gutar hol y shit i wanna scream its like 10”3o its ntoeven that late but my mom wnast me to sleep and im gonna regret this but AHHHHHHH fuckin johnllcik feels jfc he loves john so much plx free them thx jessusususuususususus they areso in love the eye sex is INESEt  
> Goodnithe america


	21. A Man Out of His Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that this took me like a year. Like, really sorry. I don't have an excuse. It's just my life. Let me know if you want me to keep writing this and if you want me to finish.

Sherlock immediately grabbed John’s hand and pulled him out of Angelo’s hospital room.

“We’ll be back,” Sherlock yelled over his shoulder. When they got outside, it was already nighttime and the streetlights that were just now coming on were their only means of seeing. They hailed the first cab that drove by and quickly got in.

“221B Baker Street,” He told the cab driver and then closed his eyes.

“Are you going to explain what’s going on, or just sit there staring out the window?” John said after a few moments of painful silence.

“I don’t know how to explain it, John. I just _know_.” Sherlock exhaled and stared at his hands. John fought every urge to roll his eyes at the detective. He knew how Sherlock got on cases, but this time it was different. Sherlock usually relied on John to save the client while Sherlock solved the mystery, but Angelo wasn’t just a client. John took a deep breath to calm himself down and put his hand next to Sherlock’s. Sherlock took the hint and slowly laced his fingers in between John’s.

“Thank you, John.”

“For what?”

“For everything.”

“Why does it sound like you’re saying goodbye?” John’s heart skipped a beat. The cab stopped and without giving him an answer, Sherlock pulled away and took off running.

“Shite.” John jumped out in a panic and scanned their surroundings to see where Sherlock went, but there was no sign of him. They had been dropped off right in front of their flat, but Sherlock took off in the other direction. _Angelo’s._ John put his hand to his head and sighed. Whatever Sherlock had in mind, it wasn’t good. He was going to get himself seriously hurt or even killed if John wasn’t there to keep his emotions in check. John had always taken a huge amount of pride in the fact that he knew how to calm Sherlock down, how to make sure he wasn’t about to make a rash decision. Of course, this only helped as much as Sherlock allowed it to. And sometimes, he would take off running and make John feel like he didn’t even exist. This preyed on John’s insecurities and worry that Sherlock would find someone better than him. Someone who could better match him at an intellectual level: someone _smarter_.

John was often made aware of the fact that he was nowhere near as smart as his boyfriend. He had to accept the fact and try his best to keep his jealousy at an absolute minimum to not seem overly possessive. (Not that Sherlock would have minded.) John quickly realized that he had to put his insecurities aside for the moment. They would only distract him from making sure that Sherlock made it back into his arms safely tonight.

He took a few deep breaths and ran after Sherlock. John may have been a soldier, but he knew that Sherlock was going to be considerably faster. Regardless, he pushed his body harder and sped up. _Sherlock_. The only thought on John’s mind. He needed to get to him. It didn’t matter how fast John had to run, how far he had to go. He was going to find him.

By this time, it was almost midnight and the pavement was luckily devoid of pedestrians that could get into John’s way. As he neared Angelo’s he sprinted even faster. Memories of the very first case that he and Sherlock had ever shared together flooded his mind. He felt his face get hot and a tear escape and run down his cheek at the thought of Sherlock, _his_ Sherlock, in danger. As he ran, he thought about how he would much rather have Sherlock by his side to make him feel safe. That’s what Sherlock did for John, what he had always done. He gave him a home, a purpose, and made him feel like he belonged. Sherlock had a way of making John feel like nothing bad could ever happen to him.

 _Safe_. Were they ever really safe in the world they lived in? How could John have been lulled into a sense of security, when he and his boyfriend solved dangerous crimes for a living? John gritted his teeth. He felt like such an idiot for not seeing this coming. He should have known that Sherlock would have run off by himself to try and keep John out of it. One of the only people Sherlock would ever be selfless for. _John._

Finally, John reached the alley behind Angelo’s. As he drew closer, he could hear arguing and shouting. He stumbled backward as the reality of the situation hit him like a tidal wave crashing down on him. His heart dropped into his stomach as he heard Sherlock cry out in pain. He stood completely frozen and helpless as he heard the gunshot and a body drop to the ground. The blood rushing to his head all at once, made it nearly impossible to form a coherent thought. Sherlock cried out in agony again, but this time he cried out for John. Immediately, John unfroze and rushed into the conflict.

The scene he saw before him would be burned into his memory until the day he died. Sherlock was slumped against the wall, pressing on his abdomen as hard as he could. Two figures were surrounding him yelling something.

“Get the fuck away from him, you hear me?” John pulled his gun out and growled at them. He must have looked absolutely terrifying because the two of them glanced at each other and backed away slowly. John aimed his gun at one of them and said, “If you don’t get the hell out of here now, I will fucking shoot you. Don’t think that I won’t. Do you know who you just shot? The world’s smartest consulting detective and _my boyfriend_. So, if you know what’s good for you, you will run and never look back because I will hunt you down and make you pay.” Apparently, they needed no more convincing than that. They took off down the alley and disappeared around the corner.

“Shite, Sherlock” John cried out as he kneeled to check where Sherlock had been shot. Blood was pouring out in a steady stream and John knew that Sherlock didn’t have much more time. They needed to get him to a hospital, and fast.

“You shouldn’t have left me, you bloody idiot. I love you. You hold on you hear me? Hold on for me.” John sobbed as he held Sherlock’s hand.

"999, what is your emergency?"

"God, please help me. My fr-friend has been shot."

"Sir, we need you to stay calm and tell us where you are."

"Some alley, I don't know. The- the one behind Angelo’s"

"We have traced the call and we are coming to you. Plea-" John hung up and threw the phone down in anger.

A slideshow of his absolute worst memories played non-stop in his mind, but none of them were even close to as bad as the situation before him. He blinked back tears and tried to swallow down the panic that was quickly rising up in his throat. He put as much pressure on the wound as he could to keep Sherlock from losing as much blood as possible, even though the blood and the cold made him want to throw up. John was used to blood. As an army doctor, he had seen his fair share of bullet wounds, most of them fatal, but the sight of Sherlock bleeding out in front of him made him sick. There was so much; soaking through Sherlock’s clothes and onto his hands. He still heard no ambulance coming to their rescue.

"Please, Sherlock." He heard the desperation in his own shaky voice. Pushing down on Sherlock’s abdomen as hard as he could. "Don't leave me." John collapsed on the cement sobbing, clutching Sherlock’s freezing hand. He felt a small squeeze in return and quickly sat up.

"Sherlock? Sherlock, can you hear me?" John sat up quickly and stared into Sherlock’s gorgeous eyes.

"Joh-John?" Sherlock croaked. John burst into another fit of tears at the sight of Sherlock swallowing the blood that must have been in his throat. He had cuts all over his face and his eyes were almost completely swelled up. Whoever those people were, they had hurt Sherlock and John was going to find them. He was going to make them pay for what they had done.

"You're going to be okay. You have to be okay." John reassured Sherlock, but mainly himself.

“John, if I don’t…” Sherlock coughed and spit up an alarming amount of blood. “If I don’t make it, I want you to remember how much I love you. You changed my life and I am so grateful-” John cut him off with a kiss of pure desperation.

“I can’t lose you, Sherlock. I love you.”

"I love you too, John." Sherlock’s breathing was becoming more faint and John could feel his heartbeat slowing. He heard the sound of sirens coming from the distance as he clung on to Sherlock’s lifeless body in the cold alley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. Sorry about the cliffhanger. Things are not always as they appear.


	22. The Edge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, I got sick halfway through writing this and was only able to finish it today. Thank you for being patient!

The night Sherlock Holmes’ heart stopped was understandably the worst night of John’s life. Freezing, blood-soaked, and desperate in the alley behind the restaurant where the couple had shared their first dinner together, guttural sobs wracked John’s body. 

          As the paramedics hurriedly lifted Sherlock onto a stretcher and rushed him into the ambulance, John grasped his hand tightly and tried over and over to feel a pulse. He felt as if he was living through one of his very worst nightmares; Sherlock was leaving him and he could do nothing to stop it.

John locked eyes with one of the paramedics. “Bring him back. Please, bring him back, for me.”

“Sir, we’re going do everything in our ability to start his heart again. He lost a lot of blood so we’re going to need to give him quite a bit. Do you know what type he is?” The woman asked in a comforting tone.

“O negative,” John said without hesitation. He smiled a little, remembering how Sherlock used to brag constantly that he was a universal donor. At the thought of never hearing Sherlock’s voice again, never being able to hear the detective tell him how much he loved him, John felt a wave of panic rise up in his throat. His vision began to go blurry and he stumbled forward. The woman he had spoken with earlier, steadied him. 

“I think,” John sucked in sharply, “I think I’m having a panic attack. I- I was a soldier.” He tried to explain. The paramedic nodded and made sure he was steady.

“I’m going to need you to take some deep breaths for me. What’s your name?” John forced another breath through his throat.  _ This cannot be happening right now,  _ he groaned in disbelief. It had been several years since his last serious panic attack.

“John Watson and that man is my fr-,” he stopped himself. “That man is Sherlock Holmes, the world’s greatest consulting detective, and my boyfriend.” The woman smiled at that.

“Well, John, you’re going to be okay, and my team is going to do our very best to get Sherlock back to you.” John nodded and tried to swallow past the huge lump that had formed in his throat.  _ What if this is it?  _ John took another deep breath and tried not to think about a life without Sherlock. He simply couldn’t imagine it at all. Sherlock was his entire life. 

John repositioned himself so that he was right next to Sherlock’s ear. He took in Sherlock’s gorgeous face, bruises, cuts, and all. Even with the blood and bruising, his face remained aggravatingly perfect. His alabaster skin and obsidian-colored hair were as beautiful as ever despite the harsh lighting of the ambulance. John ran his hand through Sherlock’s curls and continued holding onto his hand as tightly as he could.

“You mean everything to me, Sherlock. I can’t do this without you,” John choked up. “You’re my best friend and my boyfriend and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” I tear dripped onto Sherlock’s face, and John wiped it away with his thumb. 

“I need you, Sherlock Holmes.  _ Vatican Cameos _ ” John whispered their special phrase in Sherlock’s ear. John saw one of the paramedic’s eye’s widen and she called out, “We’ve got a pulse!” John jumped back in surprise as Sherlock started shaking. 

“His heart started again, but he’s going into  hemorrhagic shock from loss of blood. We need to keep pressure on the wound and get me two more bags of O neg, stat!” John kissed Sherlock’s forehead and gave his hand a squeeze before moving out of the way so the paramedics could work. “Be strong for me, Sherlock.”

~.~.~.~.~.

Sherlock’s POV

Sherlock Holmes had thought about death and the inevitability of dying a lot as a child. His parents and Mycroft would always tell him to leave the subject alone whenever he brought it up, but he could never understand why it bothered them so much to think about it.  

Losing consciousness in that alley while John stood helplessly over him, scared Sherlock way more than he would ever admit to anyone. It wasn't just the fact that he was dying, bleeding out from his stomach. It was the absolutely terrifying possibility that he might be leaving John on his own. He could never do that to him.  _ Never.  _

As Sherlock drifted in and out of consciousness, he started having trouble distinguishing reality from his mind palace. Faces and locations melted together and spun around as he grit his teeth, squeezing John’s hand to try and stay anchored to reality. The pain was like nothing Sherlock had ever experienced before. It was blindingly excruciating, searing hot, and worst thing Sherlock had ever felt, by far. 

“Come now, Sherlock. Surely you knew better than to go headfirst into danger without any backup.” Mycroft’s stern, disapproving glare in Sherlock’s mind palace was as thoroughly ridiculous as it was in person. 

“Not now, Mycroft. Not here.” Sherlock shut him out.

“Please, darling,” his parents pleaded. “We just wanted to help you.” 

“Save it. I don’t want to hear it.” Sherlock shut them out.

“Sherlock…” An unidentifiable figure whispered.

“Who’s there?” Sherlock called out, spinning in circles to try and see who had spoken.

“Sherlock!” The voice cried out again, laughing hysterically.

“What do you want?” Sherlock stumbled and tripped over a furry object.  _ Redbeard.  _

“Come on, Redbeard,” Sherlock scooped him up and tried to run, but his feet wouldn’t move. “We have to go!” Redbeard nuzzled his hand and let out a little whimper. As quickly as the visions had appeared, they melted away into nothing. Everything was dark; way too dark to make anything out. He could hear sounds off in the distance. He was able to make out John’s voice and immediately focused on it. 

“I need you, Sherlock Holmes.  _ Vatican Cameos _ ”. Suddenly, Sherlock felt like he could feel the weight of the universe being placed on his body and several feelings that he couldn’t quite describe. A blinding, white light was all Sherlock could see as he felt his body start to shake. 

“Be strong for me, Sherlock.” Was the last thing Sherlock heard before he slipped into unconsciousness again. 

~.~.~.~.~.

When Sherlock awoke in the hospital room and saw John at his bedside table, he immediately started sobbing. He had died. His heart had stopped. By some miracle, John was able to bring him back. 

“Oh, Sherlock,” John took Sherlock’s bruised face in his hands, “What were you thinking? You can’t leave me alone like that.” They stared into each other’s watery eyes for what seemed like an eternity, both too afraid to let go of each other. John kissed Sherlock’s forehead tenderly.

“I’m so sorry, John” Sherlock winced. John just shook his head and stroked Sherlock’s hair. 

“You’re safe now, that’s all that matters.” Sherlock tried not to scoff at that. He knew John was just trying to comfort him, but safety was about the last thing that Sherlock had right now. Not while those shooters were still on the loose. 

“Who were those men in the alley?” John asked cautiously. Sherlock tensed up at the mention of them and felt his whole body get hot. He started sweating and shivering. John looked alarmed but seemed to understand what was going on. 

“It’s okay, love. We can talk about it whenever you’re ready.” Sherlock nodded appreciatively and stared out of the hospital window vacantly. He had a terrifying suspicion before he had left the cab and said his goodbyes to John that he wouldn’t be making it back to Baker Street. He had known he was going into a dangerous situation and didn’t want to put John in harm’s way. After all, John was the most important person in Sherlock’s life and he had to keep him safe.


	23. The Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all must hate me for how long it takes me to update! ;-; I promise, I'm not trying to make you guys suffer (sort of). I'm so close to the end of this fic!! Just bear with me guys, it's almost summer so I'll have tons of time to write :D Thanks for sticking with me and believing in me.

     Adjusting to life back at Baker Street after the tragic event that took place in the alley that night, was more difficult than John would have expected. He was mostly just glad that he didn’t lose Sherlock because he honestly wasn’t too sure how he would have been able to live without him. A few days after Sherlock had been released from the hospital with his prescription medicine and orders from a doctor to avoid any strenuous activities, John was starting to sense that something was a bit off. 

     Sherlock would jump at any sudden or loud noise, and John could sense how panicked he was. Sherlock wasn’t sleeping as much, and when he did manage to fall asleep, he was tormented by nightmares and cried out in his sleep. He had even become more isolated and detached from John. Although it hurt John to see Sherlock in so much pain, he knew how it felt to be haunted by the past. His PTSD had tormented him for years, and he still had the occasional nightmare about being in the war. The wind blew one of the doors in the flat shut and Sherlock let out a startled cry. He looked around nervously like a deer in headlights and John could hear his breathing quickening. John immediately rushed over to him and wrapped his arms around him as tight as he could.

“Hey, I’m here, Sherlock. You’re safe. You’re right here with me. It’s okay, love.” John comforted him and stroked his back gently. Sherlock’s frightened eyes met John’s, and he broke down in John’s strong arms.

“I’m so scared,” he began to sob. Deep, painful sobs that made John’s heart ache. He loved Sherlock so much, and seeing him so terrified in his  _ own flat _ was heartbreaking. All he wanted was for Sherlock to feel safe, so he squeezed tighter, he held on to the one person in the world who loved him and who would do anything for him. He held onto Sherlock Holmes for dear life because what else could he do? Sherlock was suffering, he was drowning and the only way for John to save him was to help him hold on in any way that he could. 

“I know what you’re going through, love. You can get through it. We will get through it.  _ Together. _ You have to let me help you, though. It’s okay.” John felt his eyes start stinging and now he was crying, too. 

“It’s not. My past is coming back to haunt me.” Sherlock sobbed and hugged John tighter. 

“No,” John realized. “But, it is what it is, and we’re going to get through it.”

~.~.~.~.~.

John was boiling some tea for Sherlock to settle his nerves, when there was a knock at the door.

“I’ll get it, Sherlock. You don’t have to get up.”

“I’m not helpless, you know.” John winced at Sherlock’s harsh tone. He knew that he was just lashing out because he was scared, but John wasn’t used to experiencing the side of Sherlock that most others did. 

“I know you aren’t, love.” John forced a smile. The door opened to a very serious-looking Inspector Lestrade. 

“Close the door please, John. I don’t want to risk Sherlock hearing this. It will only make him more anxious.” Lestrade looked anxious himself, but John did as he was asked.

“What’s happening, Greg?”

“We’ve traced the men in the alley back to the Holmes family. More specifically, Sherlock’s parents.”

“I don’t understand… How are they connected?” John began pacing.

“Well,” Lestrade began slowly. “Sherlock’s parents hired those men, trained assassins, to  _ eliminate _ Sherlock, if you will.” John was shocked.

“But they’ve been caught, right?” John asked. Lestrade looked down sheepishly.

“You’re kidding, right? Is this why you didn’t want Sherlock to hear? Because the people who tried to fucking murder him are still out there? Shite, Lestrade!” John shouted.

“Keep your voice down! We’ll find them, don’t worry. Until then, Mycroft is supplying guards to keep watch outside the flat.” 

“Bloody hell, Lestrade!” John fell to the ground and put his head in his hands.

“It’s going to be alright, mate. We’re going to protect both of you from those psychopaths.” Lestrade offered John his hand. He took it and stood up shakily. 

“I can’t let anything happen to him; you know that,” John said slowly.

“I know,” He started to turn away, but stopped himself. “Don’t tell Sherlock about it. Best not to make his condition worse.” John nodded silently, and Greg waved and walked briskly away from the flat. 

When John went back inside, he saw Sherlock resting on the couch, holding onto a pillow, squeezing it into his chest. 

“I never thought I could be jealous of a bloody pillow, but here I am.” John smirked.

“What did Lestrade want?” Sherlock asked, obviously curious.

“How’d you know-,” John stopped himself because Sherlock knew most things. “Nevermind. He just wanted to talk about the next time we were going to have a night out at the pub.” John said his lie as he had rehearsed it while walking up the stairs. He almost wanted to tell Sherlock the truth, but he knew Greg was right about Sherlock’s condition getting worse if he found out about his parents.

“Why couldn’t he just text?” Sherlock knit his eyebrows.

“He’s Lestrade, who knows why he does anything,” John said quickly. “Now scoot over, you don’t need that pillow anymore.” John took the pillow from Sherlock’s arms and curled up beside him.

“This couch is too small for both of us, John.” Sherlock whined.

“Are you sure you don’t like the feeling of my arse rubbing against you?” John smirked as Sherlock went silent. 

“I can feel you smirking, arsehole.” Sherlock groaned.

“Oh yeah, well-” John was cut off by Sherlock’s hips thrusting forward and rubbing against him. “Excuse me, mister. That’s my job.” John stood up and feigned a surprised look as Sherlock made actual puppy dog eyes at him. His blue-green irises widening, his pupils dilating, and his cupid’s bow pout ever so slightly more noticeable. 

“If you want me, you’re going to have to beg,” John shrugged, backing away from the couch, slowly inching towards the bedroom. “And not with just your eyes. You’re going to have to use your genius brain to know exactly what to say to get me to fuck you right now.” John saw Sherlock’s expression soften as he stood up and took a few steps towards John.

“Captain John Watson, I’m afraid I’ve been very bad. I do believe that I need you to make sure that I won’t misbehave again. Would you,  _ please,  _ Captain, teach me a lesson on how to obey?” Sherlock whispered in John’s ear and met his eyes. 

“Teach you a lesson, eh? How about we start with how give the perfect blowjob. Don’t worry, I’ll talk you through it, but you’re going to have to follow my every command. Can you do that?”

“Yes.” Sherlock nodded eagerly.

“Yes, what?” John looked disapprovingly at Sherlock.

“Yes, Captain.” Sherlock said quickly. 

“Very good. Now, get down on your knees” John said while unbuttoning his trousers and pulling his pants down as well. Sherlock obeyed, of course, and immediately sunk down. John saw Sherlock staring longingly at his hard cock, awaiting his instructions. 

“You’ve been a good boy so far. Grasp the bottom of my cock gently and press your lips to the head.” Sherlock instantly did as he was told and took John’s cock into his mouth, licking the tip a little.

“Is this good, Captain?” Sherlock looked up, obviously eager to receive praise from John. 

“Yes, it’s very good. One would think that you can do this without my help. Care to test that theory?” John caressed Sherlock’s beautiful face. His perfectly sculpted features and innocent eyes made John so painfully hard. 

“Yes, Captain.” Sherlock quickly applied more pressure with his mouth and started stroking the shaft with his hand. John let out a loud groan as Sherlock worked up the pace. Sherlock moved his hand so that it was cupping John’s balls, playing with them a little, as his mouth worked further and further down John’s cock. John’s hands flew into Sherlock’s curls and started pushing Sherlock’s head down so that he was working his cock deeper into Sherlock’s throat. Sherlock’s lips touched the base of John’s cock, and he waited a second before releasing Sherlock’s curls. He came up with spit all over his mouth and face, and John had never seen anything sexier.

“Let me cum all over your beautiful face.” John ordered, and Sherlock sat expectantly. John stroked himself a few times and before he knew it, he came right on Sherlock’s face. Sherlock licked the cum off from around his mouth, and cleaned John’s cock off as well.

“You’re so good to me, Captain Watson.” Sherlock smiled.

“Only because I wanted to teach you a lesson. And because you’re too fucking sexy for me to not be.” John pulled his pants back on and took Sherlock’s hand. 

“Let’s go to the bedroom, Captain.” Sherlock suggested, smirking.

“That sounds like a great idea.” John said, and stood on his toes to kiss Sherlock on the forehead. 


	24. Chapter 24

WASSUP FUCKERS!!! Hi, okay so I know it has been almost a year and all of you are probably either low key done with this fuckin fandom because Moftiss kind of failed us in season 4 and you also might think I'm dead because I haven't uploaded in so long, but tbh I just haven't had any motivation to write. Recently, however, I hit a really low point in my life and I think that writing and FINISHING this fic will give me some purpose. Seeing all your comments is extremely refreshing and I don't want to let you guys down. So expect some new chapters hopefully soon ;) Love you all lots!


	25. Ringing

Sherlock’s POV

The sexual chemistry between Sherlock and John Watson was deliciously hot and undeniable. John took Sherlock to places he wouldn’t have been able to go to on his own. Before the two of them had confessed their feelings for each other, Sherlock had often fantasized about what John could do to him and how sexy it would be for him to pull rank in the bedroom and take control. He had absolutely no problem with being a bottom and letting John top. In fact, he loved every second of it. Something about the way John growled and panted as they fucked, made Sherlock painfully hard. Oh, how many lonely nights Sherlock had spent in his room stroking himself and picturing John’s hands and lips all over his body, not knowing that John had had the same feelings for him. All of the tension and sexual frustration had built up and made it so much hotter when they finally got to devour each other.

Sherlock traced his fingers softly over John’s shoulder, where the scar from the bullet wound was, and marveled at how captivating John was when he was asleep. The way his lips parted ever so slightly as he exhaled, Sherlock was absolutely enamoured. He had never seen someone look so effortlessly gorgeous. It was no secret that John Watson was an attractive man, but there was just something about him that drew Sherlock in from the start. He smiled and curled himself up closer to the one person who really understood him. For the first time, Sherlock was actually looking forward to the future. In the past, it had scared him to think about a week or even a few days in the future because life is so unpredictable. Sherlock hated things being unpredictable. His entire line of work was dependant on him being able to predict almost everything. But thinking of a future with John? Sherlock couldn’t help but blush; he wanted to make that man his husband so badly. John deserved so much and Sherlock wanted to be the person to give him everything he could ever want. He realized that it was finally time; time to propose.

Sherlock saw John’s eyes flutter open and he immediately smiled and kissed him softly. It lasted longer than usual because Sherlock couldn’t bring himself to pull away.

“Everything alright, love?” John took his hand and squeezed it.

“Of course, my darling.” Sherlock smiled and squeezed back.

“ _My darling?_ You’ve never called me that before; why are you in such a good mood?” he asked playfully and kissed Sherlock.

“I’m just so lucky to have you in my life, John. You’ve saved me so many times.” Sherlock smiled.

“And you’ve saved me countless times, too. We need each other.” John said, smiling gently. Sherlock realized that if he was going to propose soon, he needed to buy a ring. He really had no idea where to start, but he supposed that the mall was a good idea.

“I love you, John. I need to get out of this flat and get some fresh air, though. I’ll be back in a few hours.” John raised his eyebrow at that and something flashed across his face. Fear?

“Where are you going to go?” John asked. Sherlock could tell that he was trying to control his breathing; something that he did when he was on the verge of panicking. Sherlock did his best to ease John’s worry.

“Just for a walk, my love. I’ll be safe, I promise.” John still looked worried, but he kissed him slowly and nodded.

~.~.~.~.~.

When Sherlock got to the mall, it became immediately apparent to him that he had absolutely no idea what he was doing. Buying a ring to propose with was not exactly something he had experience with. He decided to go to the first jewelry store that he saw and go from there.

An older woman immediately greeted him and smiled.

“Hello, sir, how can I help you today?”  

“I’m uh, looking for an engagement ring,” Sherlock said meekly. She looked him up and down still smiling.

“What a handsome young man you are. I’m excited for the lucky lady who gets to be your wife.” she joked. Sherlock started sweating.

“Actually,” he began nervously, “I need, um, a ring for a man.” He braced himself, half expecting her reaction to be extreme. She just kept smiling.

“Ah, the lucky lad then. Come right this way, and I’ll help you find something special for him.” Sherlock exhaled with relief and smiled. People were actually starting to accept people like him; a time Sherlock never thought he would experience.

“Were you thinking something flashy or simple?” she asked, showing him a selection of men’s rings. Sherlock thought for a moment about what would look best on John.

“Something simple. Probably a gold or silver band would look best on him.”

“Do you have a picture of this young man? I want to see which colour would best suit his skin tone.” Sherlock nodded and dug out his phone, finding the best picture he could of John.

“Very handsome. I think that a silver band would suit him very nicely. We have our selection right here.” she gestured to a bunch of gorgeous silver bands and one immediately stood out to Sherlock.

“That one.” He pointed at one of the rings in the far left corner. She brought it out of the glass case and instantly knew that it was perfect. John would love it.

“I think you definitely made the right decision,” she said, smiling.

“I think so, too,” Sherlock smirked.

~.~.~.~.~.

Before Sherlock walked back into the flat, he noticed that the same car that had been parked outside his flat for the past few days was still there. He hadn’t paid much attention to it before because he wasn’t completely focused lately. However, something about that car made Sherlock’s skin crawl and he quickly hurried inside.

“John?” he called out nervously.

“I’m in the kitchen, love,” John replied. Sherlock practically sprinted to him.

“Do you know why the same car that has been parked outside our flat for the past few days is still there?” Sherlock saw the color drain out of John’s face. “So, you do know something?” he asked, breathing heavily.

“Don’t be upset please,” John said, looking down.

“That is _not_ the best way to preface something.” Sherlock’s voice was shaking.

“Listen, there’s no easy way to say this but-”

Sherlock cut him off, “Well, you need to figure out a way to say it because I feel like I’m going to pass out.”

“The people who tried to kill you were hired by your parents. The car out there is owned by some of Mycroft’s men. He made sure that they would be out there to protect you because, well…” John trailed off.

“They’re still out there aren’t they?” Sherlock’s heart dropped as John nodded. Sherlock felt his chest tighten and his vision go blurry. He started panicking and heard the phone ringing as he fell on the ground, hyperventilating. John answered in a panicked voice and Sherlock heard Lestrade’s shouting voice through the phone.

“Sherlock, we need to hide, _now.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO! I am finally back. Enjoy this chapter :)


	26. Happily Ever After

John’s POV

 

John had to practically drag Sherlock into the bathroom; he was clearly in shock. 

“Stay with me, love. I need you to stay calm.” John tried to soothe Sherlock. He didn’t know what was going to happen, but he knew that it might not end peacefully. He grimaced and ran to his bedroom. Slowly opening his bedside drawer, he took deep breaths and picked up his gun. It had been ages since he had held it. He didn’t want to use it on anyone, but he sure as hell wasn’t about to let anyone hurt his Sherlock. He went back to where Sherlock was, sitting in the hallway and staring blankly off into the distance. 

“Come on, dear. We need to hide in the bathroom; I think it’s the safest place.” John took Sherlock’s hand and led him into the bathroom. He collapsed onto the floor, shaking.

“John, don’t let them hurt me.” Sherlock whimpered. John’s heart nearly shattered into a million pieces while thinking of what Sherlock must have been put through in the past. How completely fucking terrified he must be. All because of his bloody stupid parents. John’s eyes narrowed and his grip tightened around his gun. With his other hand, he gently cupped Sherlock’s face, “No one is going to hurt you, Sherlock. I’ve got you and you’ll never have to worry about anyone hurting you.” He brushed away a tear with his thumb and held onto Sherlock. He could hear tires screeching outside and shouting. He just kept whispering things into Sherlock’s ear and making sure that he knew everything was going to be okay. The sound of gunshots made them both tense up. Everything became painfully silent for a few moments and they held their breath. The sound of John’s phone ringing pierced the quiet and startled both of them. John kissed Sherlock quickly and answered the call. 

“It’s done. You’re safe.” Lestrade’s voice came through and made both of them exhale and take a few deep breaths. 

“Thank you, Lestrade.”

“The assassins were incapacitated and taken into custody and Sherlock’s parents have also been located and arrested. It’s all over.” John hung up and started sobbing tears of joy and relief. He dropped the gun and his phone so he could grab Sherlock’s face and kiss him. He kissed him everywhere. He couldn’t stop. After John had kissed every single part of his face, Sherlock stood up and brought John up with him.

“What’s going on?” John asked, confused. Then, Sherlock did something that John would never have seen coming. He took a small black box out of his coat pocket and got down on one knee. John felt his heart racing as Sherlock looked up and him and uttered the most important words in John’s entire life:

“John Hamish Watson, will you marry me?”

~.~.~.~.~.

John nearly passed out. He felt all the blood rush to his head and he covered his mouth with his hands. 

“Is that a yes?” Sherlock smiled and took John’s hand. John could only nod in disbelief. He mouth dropped open even further when Sherlock lifted the lid of the box and revealed a gorgeous silver band. 

“Holy shite, Sherlock!” John gasped. Sherlock took it out of the box and slipped it onto John’s ring finger. It fit perfectly, of course. There was no doubt in John’s mind that Sherlock had been able to deduce his ring size just by looking. God, that man was incredible; he had the most incredible boyfriend in the world. Wait, not boyfriend… It hit John that Sherlock was now his  fiancé. They looked into each other’s eyes and immediately started crying and laughing. 

“I’m going to be your husband,” John said in almost disbelief, squeezing Sherlock’s hand.

“I wouldn’t want anyone else.” Sherlock rested his head on top of John’s. They stayed like that for a while; just hugging and being with each other in that small bathroom. Nothing else mattered. 

 

Epilogue:

The day of the wedding had finally arrived. John could have never fathomed the thought of himself marrying such a perfect person. It was a dream come true for him to marry Sherlock. Their wedding was a simple, intimate event with only close friends and family. Many tears were shed when they exchanged their vows and it was a very touching ceremony overall. 

“John, where can I even begin? When I first started developing feelings for you, I was scared. I’m an intelligent man, but love is not something that has ever come naturally to me. I was instantly drawn towards you and I had to spend hours and hours of every day trying to convince myself that you would never like me back and it would never work so that I wouldn’t get my heart broken. I could never have deduced that one day we would be standing on this altar getting bloody married. I have been called cold, unfeeling, or machine more times than I would like to admit, but you have always treated me like I’m the most amazing person in the world and for that, I owe you everything. I love you with all my heart, John Watson.” John could feel butterflies in his stomach at Sherlock’s beautifully touching words. Who knew how much of a sweetheart Sherlock could be?

“My turn,” John smiled and squeezed Sherlock’s hands. “Sherlock, I truly believe that you have made me a better man. I have grown so much since I have met you and I know that I will continue to grow as your loving husband. I promise to stand by your side no matter what as you have stood by me. Meeting you was the best thing that could have ever happened to me and I am so honored to be able to spend the rest of my life with you. I’m sure it didn’t really surprise most people when we came out as a couple, but it took a lot of courage for both of us to make that step. We were both so afraid of rejection or breaking the strong friendship connection we had. You’re still my best friend, my flatmate, and the person I trust more than anyone. I’m just incredibly lucky because now you’re about to be my husband, too. Sherlock Holmes, I love you so much and I always will.” Mrs. Hudson let out a very loud wail after John’s long speech. 

“I’m sorry, I’m just so happy for my boys.” She smiled through her tears.

“Aw, get up here and give us a hug.” John extended his arms.

~.~.~.~.~.

The energy on the ride home was charged with so much passion and hunger. Neither of them could wait to get back to the flat and have their first shag as husbands. John hoped they hadn’t seemed rude for trying to wrap everything up after the wedding party and leave so fast. They almost couldn’t wait and almost did it in a supply closet in the church, but they figured that it was a tad uncouth. However, they were  _ all _ over each other in the cab, making out and leaving marks on each other’s necks. Something about Sherlock’s mouth on John’s neck just drove him crazy.

“I’m so.. fucking… hard.” John panted between kisses.

“Me too, daddy.” Hearing Sherlock call him daddy made John groan. Sherlock quieted him with another kiss. “Let’s not get kicked out of a cab on our first night as husbands.” They continued making out and being  _ very _ handsy until the cab driver pulled up in front of the flat.

“Cheers, mate!” John threw the driver a couple extra for practically fucking in his backseat and carried Sherlock over the threshold of the flat bridal style. He carried him up the stairs into Sherlock’s bedroom and laid him on the bed gently.

“I am going to make sweet love to you, Sherlock,” John said as he helped Sherlock get undressed and climbed on top of him. 

“Tell me I’m yours, daddy.” Sherlock moaned.

“Oh, you’re most definitely  _ mine.  _ You’re  _ my  _ husband and you belong to  _ me _ .” John growled and dug his fingernails into Sherlock’s back. He was proud of all the marks he left on his husband’s body because he was marking his property. He loved owning Sherlock and he knew that Sherlock loved being the submissive one who did everything he was told. 

“I’m going to take you from behind and make you cum so hard,” John promised. 

“God, yes please.” Sherlock flipped over and got on all fours. John squirted lots of lube on his fingers and inserted two in Sherlock’s arsehole. Sherlock writhed and moaned while John held his waist steady with his other hand. 

“Oh, you naughty boy,” John smirked. “You’re already ready for me to take you?” He kissed Sherlock’s lower back and thrust his fingers into him again.

“I need you _ right now, _ ” Sherlock whined. Without hesitation, John pulled off his pants and positioned himself over Sherlock. He squirted more lube onto his cock and slowly inserted himself into Sherlock’s tight arse. The sounds coming from his mouth were orgasmic. The fact that John could cause him to make those noises was the hottest part. Sherlock’s moans and grunts were quite possibly the sexiest things John had ever heard.

“I’m going to take my time with you,” John grabbed Sherlock’s waist and pulled him onto his cock again. “And by the time I’m done with you, you’re going to be shaking.” John felt Sherlock shiver under his lips as he left a trail of kisses down his back. People probably thought it was a strange power dynamic given that John was quite a bit shorter than Sherlock, but the fact that he radiated dominance made him a natural top. He loved the feeling of being in control of Sherlock’s body and being inside him. 

“Daddy?” Sherlock asked in a timid voice. 

“Yes, love?” John kept thrusting slowly, loving the way Sherlock reacted each time.

“Could you call me baby? I think it would be sexy.” Sherlock moaned and gripped the bedsheets as John sped up.

“Ah, I see. You want your daddy to own you even more? You want to be my baby?” John could hear Sherlock whimper and saw his curls move as he nodded. “Alright, baby.” John purred and nibbled on Sherlock’s ear. 

“Oh, fuck!” Sherlock shouted as John gave Sherlock yet another dark hickey on his neck from behind. They were definitely not going to be able to go outside for a while, but that just meant more sex which was perfectly fine with both of them. 

“Are you going to cum soon? Do you want daddy’s help, baby?” John dug his fingernails into Sherlock’s waist as he pounded him. 

“Hold me down.” Sherlock pleaded. John quite liked that idea and flipped Sherlock onto his back. He grabbed both of Sherlock’s wrists and pinned them above his head into the mattress. John knew that he would be cumming any second now. He got a better view of Sherlock’s eyes rolling back into his head and something about seeing the hand with his ring on it pinning Sherlock down, made John’s entire body feel hot. 

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum.” John thrust a few more times and groaned in pleasure as he filled Sherlock up with his warm cum. Sherlock’s cock was throbbing and with a few strokes from John, he came all over John’s hand. 

“And to think,” Sherlock chuckled. “We get to do this for the rest of our lives now.”

“God, yes.” John kissed Sherlock’s forehead. 

“You hungry, love?” John smiled warmly at Sherlock’s question.

“Starving.” 

  
The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY SHIT, YOU GUYS! I actually finished a fic. I can't believe I did it honestly. Thank you so fucking much for all your support these past couple of years and thank you for sticking with me. Your kind comments and leaving kudos have helped me so much and gave me the confidence I needed to continue this. I never in a million years would have thought that people would actually read my stuff and like it. Thank you so much. Please share this with anyone who would want to read it and let me know if you have any feedback. Also feel free to follow me on tumblr @mybaeisbaymax :D Bye!

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy! I love writing fan fiction so much. It really helps if you guys can give me constructive criticism about my works and tell me how I can improve. I will try to update as soon as is possible for me.


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